


Behind the Scenes

by SmilesThroughFandoms



Series: It Runs in the Family (AU) [2]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Also Me: Hey gang have some extra content and stuff, Animatronic!Lacie, Garden Variety AU (a-rae-of-sunshine), I'm a mess of a writer guys, If You Squint - Freeform, Me: I should work on my actual Bendy story, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, and Steven Universe references, bare with me, look I really like that idea ok, some Adventure Time references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-06-03 01:08:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19453240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilesThroughFandoms/pseuds/SmilesThroughFandoms
Summary: Just a place to put deleted scenes and extra fun stuff that I write for my It Runs in the Family AU. Chapters will either be one or more deleted scenes from the story Seeking for Answers, or just fun scenes I wrote for fun that take place in the same universe.





	1. August 31, 1963

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is a deleted scene from chapter 1 of Seeking for Answers. I was able to use some of the dialogue from here but not all of it. Enjoy!

_August 31, 1963_

“This is a dumb idea.” Toby frowned. “This is a very, very dumb idea.”

Ann glanced at Toby and then looked out the car window at Joey Drew Studios. Kelley shook his head, putting his car into the park. “C’mon, Toby. We all agreed we would do this!”

“Ok, but, counterpoint: we agreed to that before we saw how messed up this place looks.” Toby argued.

As the two teens in the front continued to argue in the front, Ann reached over and tapped Daisy on the shoulder. The redhead raised a brow. “Yeah, kiddo?”

“Did my grandpa _really_ work here?”

Daisy snorted. “You know the answer to that question.”

Ann glanced at Toby, who was still arguing with Kelley in the front seat. “And Toby’s dads used to work here too, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Pretty sure. Lemme check. Hey, Toby!” Daisy roughly kicked the back of Toby’s seat. The face he made at Daisy’s actions making Ann laugh. “Your dads used to work here, right?”

“Yeah, before it shut down.”

“What’d they do?”

Toby laughed and ruffled Ann’s dark hair. “C’mon, Annie Banannie, they’ve told you a thousand times now what they used to do…”

The eight-year-old shrugged. “I’m just curious…”

Kelley turned back and smiled at Ann. “You _really_ curious, kiddo?” Ann nodded. “Then why don’t we go in and see what we can find?”

Ann turned to look out the car window again. “Are you sure it’s safe?”

“Of course!” Kelley assured her. “What’re you? _A scaredy cat?_ ”

“Hey, man, take it back a notch.” Daisy told Kelley, placing a comforting hand on Ann’s shoulder.

“Yeah, you know what happened here.” Toby said. He turned to Ann. “We don’t have to go in, we can just go to the park or something…”

Ann glanced out at the old, abandoned studio, tugging at a strand of her hair. If Ann was being honest with herself, she was scared. Very, very scared. The other kids in her class always whispered the story of Joey Drew Studios on the playground, when all the teachers weren’t looking.

The stories of how people went missing there. The stories that the ghosts of all the former employees haunted every floor. The stories that a big, scary monster roamed the halls. The stories that only seemed to get worse and more frequent when everyone figured out who Ann’s grandpa was and what happened to him not so long ago. The stories everyone liked to use to scare Ann, so everyone else would laugh at her for being a big old scaredy cat.

But, if she went in there, she would finally be able to prove them wrong. Ann could finally laugh at _them_.

The young girl nodded. “Yeah! Let’s go inside.”

Kelley laughed. “Ah yeah! That’s my girl!” The teen at the wheel hopped out of the car and pushed his seat forward, allowing for the eight-year-old to follow him out of the car. “This is gonna be fun, trust me!”

Toby rolled his eyes at his friends antics. Daisy kicked his seat again. “Hey, babe, c’mon! Let me out.” Smiling, the blond teen stepped out of the car and left the door open for Daisy to follow him out. “’Bout time.” Toby smiled and kissed his girlfriend, who kissed him quickly before Kelley called back.

“Hey lovebirds,” he said, hoisting Ann onto his shoulders, “when you’re done building your love nest, come join us inside ok?”

“What’s a love nest?” Ann asked.

“Ask me that again in, like, five years.” Kelley said, heading towards the studio. Ignoring Ann’s pout at not being told what a love next was.

Daisy rolled her eyes and Toby shook his head. “I say we lock him in a closet and then go take Ann for ice cream or something.”

“Day’s still young.”

After a bit of a struggle with the front door, that ended when the teens of the group rushed the door and shoved it in with their shoulders, the group of four was inside. Ann, upon entering the old building, was suddenly bombarded with all the memories her classmates shared of the former studio. The eight-year-old reached over and tightly clung to Toby’s leg, bravado gone.

Toby, noticing his young friend’s sudden nerves, frowned. “This was a bad idea…”

Kelley slung an arm around Toby’s shoulders as Daisy ventured deeper into the studio. “C’mon, Franks,” Kelley waggled his bushy brows, “what’s the worst that could happen?”

“I dunno.” Toby sighed, patting Ann on the head. “This place just gives me the creeps.”

“Aw,” Daisy cooed diminutively, “is the little baby afraid of the big, dark studio?”

“Et tu, Daisy?” Toby smiled at his girlfriend, who blew him a kiss. Toby smiled reassuringly down at Ann. “Don’t worry, if you get to scared, we’ll get outta here.”

The dark-haired child took some comfort in his words and smiled back. “Ok.”

“Stay close, though.” Toby glanced around. “Place looks like it should’ve been condemned ages ago.”

“What’s that mean?”

“That this place should’ve been torn down and replaced with a different building.”

And so the group explored the studio, the teens determined to make the most out of the last day of summer before going back to school, and little Ann determined to find something that would prove to the other kids at the playground she was brave, she wasn’t a coward, and she didn’t deserve to be left alone on purpose at the playground.

But, despite all the hype around the studio being creepy and haunted, Ann was starting to think her classmates just exaggerated everything to scare her. Which, if Ann was being honest, definitely sounded like something her classmates would do. (They were a bunch of meanie-pants after all).

Because, while creepy, this place obviously wasn’t haunted. How did Ann know this? Three reasons actually.

1: Nothing was floating. On TV, whenever a house was haunted, everything from a candlestick to the kitchen sink floated. It was just science.

2: Toby, Daisy, and Kelley weren’t scared. Those three were the bravest people Ann knew by far. So if there was something as scary as a ghost (by far the scariest thing Ann could think of), then certainly they would be scared too.

3: Ann couldn’t see anything. On TV, all the ghosts looked like people covered in flour, or see-through but still visible, or just someone wearing a bed sheet. Ghosts, though not human, were still able to be seen by humans. It’s just how things worked.

Secure with this knowledge that everyone at school was just a lying, poopy-head jerk trying to scare her until she cried, Ann set out on finding something to prove to her classmates wrong. But what would do the trick? There were a bunch of posters for the old Bendy cartoons on the wall, that might work. No, wait, she was to short to actually get it down. Maybe some paper from the animation department she and Daisy looked at. No, that wouldn’t work either. She could get that paper from anywhere.

“Oh, gross! Look at the expiration date on this soup.” Daisy called out, drawing Ann’s attention back to the teens of the group. Walking back over, she found Toby and Kelley already crowded around her, faces scrunching up in disgust.

“Man, this stuffs older than I am…” Toby winced.

“Uh, dude, this stuff is older than your grandparents.” Kelley snickered, earning him a punch to the arm from Toby. “You know I’m right!”

Ann walked over and Daisy held out the can for her to see. _Best by 01/01/1952_. Ann wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Yuck city! They should put a warning label on that stuff…”

“C’mon, it’s in a can! Anything in a can has a shelf life of, like, fifteen years past the expiration date.” Kelley assured them. “It’s science.”

Toby scoffed. “That’s bull and you know it.”

“No it’s not! My old man told me.”

“Ok, then drink the soup and prove it.” Daisy shoved the can into Kelley’s hands.

“What?”

Ann giggled. “She said drink the soup, Kelley. What’re ya, _a scaredy cat_?” Toby and Daisy hollered with laughter as Toby narrowed his eyes at the little girl, but then smirked.

“Alright, watch and learn, you jerks.” Kelley cracked open the can and tossed the lid aside. Then tilted his head back, chugging the spoiled soup while Toby and Daisy chanted “Drink-the-soup! Drink-the-soup! Drink-the-soup!”

That’s when the figurative light bulb flickered above Ann’s head. _Soup!_ Ann didn’t remember ever seeing this kind of soup at the Bodega when she and her Mamma went grocery shopping. So, it stood to reason that this kind of soup was only found in the studio! Now, all she had to do was find another can of soup to show on the first day of school, and she would be set!

Of course, considering the only person who knew where to find another can of soup was currently laughing at Kelley as he choked out the little soup he had drunk (“Oh God, oh Lord, it taste how garbage smells!” Kelley gagged). Ann shrugged, turned around, and set off down the hall. _It can’t be too hard to find a can of soup in here, right?_

Well, turns out, it is pretty hard to find a can of soup in an abandoned studio. It was harder than finding a needle in a haystack and definitely harder than finding her crayons after Hank took them from her room.

Still, Ann was determined to see this through to the end. That’s when she came across a pipe on the floor with a sign that read ‘ _Watch Your Step’_ hammered to it. Ann hoped over the pipe and entered a balcony space, overlooking another room that had a giant pit in the center, with chains stretching into the darkness below.

“What’s all this?” Ann asked aloud, not caring that no one could hear her.

_Ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum…_

Ann glanced around, curious, wondering what that sound was and where it was coming from. Quest to find the can of soup now long forgotten.

_Ba-dum… ba-dum… **ba-dum…**_

The little girl glanced around the room, confused. What was making that noise? Ann looked all around but saw nothing. The only thing that looked different since she entered the room was the small puddle of black stuff by the doorway. Leaning over and poking it, Ann found it was nothing more than a puddle of ink.

_**"̶̧̠̞͇͍̫͍͉̳̓̊́͐̕͘͘L̵̨̠͇̗̗͑͋̽̾͌̾̅̀̉́̕͜͜ë̸̦̤̖̹̣̝̲͔̬̺̰́͑̓̌̃̃̓̑͆̐͘͝à̸̡̭̱̭̞̜̰̰͎͇͍͗̕͜v̴̛̲̦̲̬̲̏̀̊͐̊͜͜ẻ̴̻͚̥̤͕͊͜—̵̧̡̛͚͍̱͚͙̺̦̯́͆̏͋̃̒̔̾̈́̓̽̍͘͜"̵̢̡̘͖̮̥͍̹̟̤͈͎͕͎̦̄̚͘̚͠** _

_Ann jumped back, startled._ _What the heck was that?!_ _It didn’t sound like the noise from earlier, it sounded horrible and distorted and… kind of familiar?_

**_Ba-dum—Ba-dum—Ba-dum!_ **

Whatever it was, it was closer now. A chill ran up Ann’s spine and it felt as if someone was breathing down her neck. “H-Hello?” The little girl asked timidly, turning around to see that no one was there. But the sensation wouldn’t leave. “Is someone there?”

**_"̸̢̩̯̙̣̺̜̥̟̗͖́͊͗̾̒̐̌̓͜ͅ—̶͓̭̎h̸̢̢̩̖̬̮͖͋͐̃̉͐̈́̈́̈͛̈̚e̸̡̧̞͖̺͓͖̬̗͇̼̓͜r̵̢̺̠͓̯͋̑̊̈́̔̈́ ̴̧̗̳̞̳͒̔̉̄̓̌̈̚͝a̸͇̓́̃̉͊͂̉̔͗͗̚̕͘͝l̷͈̭͖͕̗̩̺͓̠̗͇̔͜ͅo̷̧̥̦̼̫͚̘̱̎̿̕ͅn̶̨̢̗̠̠̳̥̪̘̯̟̜̐̽̉̈́́̌̔̽͝e̵͚̮͈͐̈́!̶͍͍͍̤̩̤͎͗͑̽̆̃͋̓̚͠"̵̨̝̩̝̺̖̪͓̩̈̐̇̽̃̇͘͜͠ͅͅ_ **

Ann felt as if she was lightly pushed. Not enough to force her to the ground, but enough to let her know that someone—something?—wanted her out of the way. She glanced to where she felt she had been pushed and found herself facing the doorway. The puddle of ink was bigger now.

**_Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!_ **

Belatedly, Ann realized that noise she was hearing was a heartbeat. She couldn’t tell however, if it was her heartbeat or not. **_Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!_** **_Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!_** Ann backed away from the door, suddenly terrified. Her foot stepped into something as she did so, and a quick glance down proved that it was another puddle of ink.

**_"̷̧̢̼̦̟̜̺͚̪͖̳̳̤͚͕̍Ḷ̵̨̮̹̦͇̞̊̃͘͜͝e̷̡͍̭͔̠̪̯̯̟̣̲͍̣̎̓̏̑̿̄̈́͗͘͜ả̶̬͔̈́͑̋̊̔̍̕ṽ̶̖̦̬͉̱̖̮̝̻̖̓̅ë̸̻͇́͆̈̈́͘ ̸̘̮͙̰̠̦̘̜̞̥̫̞͉͂͌́̽͒̔͐́̃̈́̚h̷̨̢̝͓͖̓̆ȩ̸͚̙̖̹͒̓̊̂͂̑͋̑̈́̓͌̕͜͠r̷̡͚̘̞̰̭̖̪͒̓̈́̑ ̶̨̡̧̛̦̻̟̞͔̹̪̝̻͌̃̆͋̃͐̇a̴̛̱̔̓̂͊̐͆̿̎̔̉̅̚̚l̶͔̪͕̔o̶̺̰͙͚̜͌̓̋̌̈̈́̇̚n̴̙̺̫͍͆̄͆̈̐̍͊̉̈́̌͠e̶̢̨̠̮̠̜̮̘̓̄̈́!̵̡͔̯̝̥̺̇͆̿̓͊̽̈"̶̛͔͕̥̫̀̅̋̃̃͌͐̄͘͘_ **

Ann glanced up as dark spots appeared in front of her eyes. No, not spots… blotches. Dark blotches appeared in her vision, as if someone poured ink just at the very corner of her vision. **_Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!_**

“Who’s there?” Ann shouted, her voice faltering slightly. Ann still wasn’t sure if she was hearing her own heartbeat so loud and fast in her ears but she was certain that it was matching pace with whatever heartbeat she was hearing.

**_"̶̡͇͖̯͙̯͎̝̳̪̆̿̍̈́͆̌̆̓͂̇͗͗͘͜͠Ṡ̴̨̧̢͖͍͉͓̱̬̲̏̅̈̏̏ͅͅh̴̛̖̪̼̦̑͒͗̌ë̶̢̬͎̯̩͇̬̗̩͓̤̔̈́ ̷̭̞̺̽̂͛̾ḩ̶̨̹̥̩̺͖̈́̒̂̔͒͜ͅä̷͇̥͍̘̰͎̻̬̫̫́͌́̉̐ṣ̸͖̟͐̅̍́̄̔̋̚̚̕͝ ̴̘͉̖͍̫͖̮̤̫͑̓̑͠ņ̵̙͉̻͕̯̟̟̮̤͚̗̫̯͌̂̂̅͜ọ̵̾͝t̴̡͈͙̟̞͚̫̳͙̜͊̈͂͠h̴̨̳̙̭̮̤̊̈́͜i̸̧̛̬͕̬̰͈̿̽̄͜n̵̥̍͑̄͝ͅg̴͔͑̍̃̑͂ ̵̧̨̛͕̞̱͚̘̻̳̘̬̝̱͖͐̃͒͌̂͒̆̚t̶̟̱̝̤̻̲͈̞̤͍͖͛̿͑̾̑͗͗̐͜o̷͍̟̜̤̥̠̅͗̈́̆̈́͋̃͗͌̈́͌͘͘ ̵̖͕̞̙̅̄̈́̊̎͒̊̉̑̅͋͛͐͝d̶̯̍̊͑̎͆̌̈́̃̈͑͌͐͠͝o̶̱̗̟͓͓͎̖̭͚͙͕͖̓̃̚͝ͅ ̵̢͍͚͇̳͓̙̘̗̩͈̩͈̘̳͐̌̈́̾͆̾̓̀̽̇͗̍̚͝͝w̷̧̪̲̭̺̥̟͖̓͐̃i̶̢̛̺͚̦̱̭̞̺̣͉̫̜͒̓̓͒̈̇͂̓̓t̶̡̬̞̱̬̳̜̓̾͛̾̽̍͂̏̿̌̇͠͝ͅh̶̛͍͚̠͎͗̈́̂̀̀̃̏̇͆̿̑̚ ̸̫͓̳̝̭͍̮͓̠́͆͗͜t̸̢̺̞͔̺͘̕ḫ̶̞̱̲̺̪̼̳͎̜̈́͒̇̓̀̈́͛̕͘͜͠ĩ̶͇̼̍̅̂͘͘͝s̵̟̦͐̈́̈́̐̌̔͌̉̔̽̂͛̔͘!̷̛̛̜͇̻̟̻̥̽̅̈́̀̆̎̐̈́̕͠"̷̧̥̜̖͓̲̻͖̙̼̤̺͉̑̀͛̈́͂͑͛͜_** The distorted voice shouted. Ann could barely make out what it was saying. It kind of reminded Ann of the time her Dad accidentally dropped a fork in the garbage disposal.

But it still sounded familiar.

Despite all of that, Ann couldn’t help but feel she recognized the voice from somewhere and that scared her. Because who on this Earth would have a voice that sounds like _that_ and still be recognizable to her?

**_Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum! Ba-dum!_ **

Ann couldn’t breathe. Her heart was beating to fast; she couldn’t breathe. The terror of the situation wanted to make her call out for help. Call for Toby, for Daisy, for Kelley, for anyone. But. She. Couldn’t. Breathe. Her mouth opened and closed but no sound came out. She was so scared and confused and _why—can’t—I—breathe?_

As Ann sat there, gasping for air and terrified out of her young mind, she placed her hand on the ground in an attempt to steady herself. Unfortunately, she placed her hand in another ink puddle.

It got really dark for a brief moment.

She saw the figure of a man standing in front of her, protecting her. The shape of the man was familiar and the man was screaming at— _something_! It was tall and skinny, so skinny Ann could see it’s spine sticking out it’s back. It was dripping wet with something (ink, maybe?) and looming menacingly over Ann and the man in front of her.

The choked sound that escaped Ann’s throat was not so much a scream of terror as it was a breathy shriek of confusion.

Still, it was enough to get the man’s attention. As he turned to her—face contorted with fear, comfort, anger, worry, and a myriad of emotions Ann couldn’t quite grasp at her young age—Ann finally got a good look at his face, and she now realized why he sounded so familiar.

“Grandpa?”

**_̸̛̺̳̝̥̈̓̓̇̏̓͊̑͐͂̾͌͝͠"̵̡̢͇͚̦̮͇̥̺̺͂̐̓̈̏̂̒̉̾͘G̷̢̢͒̈́͑̾̊̓̈͗͑͆̀̉͂ȩ̷̡̬̱̣͎͕͓̳͈̥͚͈̮̎̈͊̎̓̈́̓̀̕͝t̶̥̣͙̹̂̎̾͋̄ ̴̠̯͗o̵̧̪̖̦̯̣̹͇̤̘͂͆̊̏̍̓͘ų̶̘͇̫̫͍̯̰͈̅̈́͊̄̆̂ͅͅt̶̜̣̩̼̮̗̪̅̋͋̎̇̃̈́͘̚ͅ!̶̢̖̳̖̲̫̠͛͋̎͋́̀̍̆"̷̨̯̺̪̰͂̾_ **

Ann blinked in confusion. Her grandpa crouched closer to her, holding one arm out in an attempt to keep the _thing_ away from them both. ̵̢͇͉̙̮̱͔̦̖̬̹̟̯̟́̊̈́̃̍̑̊͐͊̇͑̕͠͠ ** _"̵̢̨̠͖̭͈̖̟͎̲͓̱͈̹̒̇̔̓͌̅̑̕͝A̸̢̨̢͕͙͉̱̣͇̫̩͖͇͐̀̑̃͋͂̾̇̔̏͝ͅṇ̵̛̮̻̪̈́͛̆̏̒̈́͘͘͝ͅn̵̼̮̟̪̙̗̙̗̝͓̍͂͌͋̓͛̕ͅ,̴̧̡̳̻͔̥̲̻͙͙̦̰̫͂͊͋͑ͅ ̴̜̙̤̪̖͈͓̜̓̐̽̂̒̉̚̕͠h̵̢̡̨̤̰͓͉̩̘̤͎̓õ̴̰̻͍͖̥̟̺̻̎̾n̶̦̦̘̭̹̥̬̜̣͖̱̩̆͋̏͌̀͛͌̽̿ͅĕ̴̛̙̳̤̤̘̦̗͚͔̗͔͉̺͙̗̅͋̎͊͋̈́̆̃͘͝y̵͔̪̟̘̌̑̎,̶̮̾̃͌͛̒͜͝ ̸̫̤͇̜̟͌l̴̮̜̙̾̑̄̽ͅĕ̵̩̌̒̉̚̕ą̴̪̖̣̦͍͕̘̳̦̰͆̂͜ͅͅv̷͈̗̤̠͆̈͗̈̿̑͑̋͌͠ȩ̶͎̱͈̠̰͕̮̯̠̲̳̚͜!̵̲̫͖̐̈́̒̏ͅ ̶̢͇̋̊̃̈̓͑̄̐̆͝N̸̨̢͎̟̹̳͉̳͕͕̻͍̲͎̿̈́̅̇̏̉͂̍͘ơ̷̡̛͓͚̘͇̤͓̙̙͚̩͔͈̒͑̇͊̋͌̏͌̿͂̚͜͜w̶̢̡̛͉̗̘̪̬͕̙̖̠̉̈́̿̉͛̿͊̇̂̑͘!̸͙͋̄͋̆̓̾"̸̘͇͔̣̪̳̓͝_**

The little girl whimpered. “How—How are you here? You died!”

**_"̸̛̼̲̼̱̻̺̩̤͇͍̝͈̅̑̅̆̋͝G̴̡̨̨͙͇͕͚̲̲̾͌̈́̔͗̃̾̃o̷͚̱̫̦͙̳̗͐̉̈́̊̅͐!̸̧̡͍̳̤͕̟̗̳̦̘̣͙̓̈́̌͂̎͊͘ ̸̪̜̗͈̰͕̘͐Ŗ̶̱͎̖̜̗͖͍̙̬̱͚̦̠̿̕ȕ̴̧̡̨͉͖̗̼̹͉̘̱̃͐͊n̵̟̻͎̟̭̟̳̳̩̘̻̮̂̀̆̈́͋̽̍̽̒!̵͖̇̒̈̕"̷̡͍̞̩͖̿̇͑́͊͊̈̉͒͝_ **

“I don’t understand… You-You were, and Grandma said that—”

**_̵͖̩̮͚̱͎͇̀̓͌͛͛͂̄"̸̧̲̭̙̳͎̗̓̑̏̐̽Ǵ̶̡̡͕̠̩̘̭̝̣̖̥̻̓͑͠ͅé̸͔̳̗͖̘͚̘̣̖͙̥͈̆͐̄̆̄̕̕t̷̢͚̜̠̯͍͓̝͕͗͌̋̓̏ ̷̖̖͙̠̀̔̂͊͋͂͂͜͠o̶̖͂͗̍̒̂̑̒́̂͝u̵͍͖̳͕͕̣͚͙̺̞̇̿͊͑͛̽͐̊͌̆̕͜ţ̶̛͇̳̆̑͂̊̀̇̓̎̋̈̑̚͘͝!̸̞͓̤͙̫̦̦̝̄̋̾̚ͅ"̵̼̰̖̩͉̼̳̎̐͊̈́̀͒͘_ **

Ann glanced up and screamed. The creature, whatever it was, was reaching for her grandpa. Just as it grabbed him by the neck, he reached over and shoved her away. Closer to the railing, farther away from him, and out of the ink puddle.

Ann would continue to scream, to afraid and confused to do much else, until Toby would come running into the room. Until Toby scooped her into his arms and held her until her screams would quite down into a soft whimper. Until Daisy suggested they leave and go home. Until Kelley was starting the engine, the only one of them to be sitting in the front of his car, as Toby and Daisy sat in the back with Ann to help calm her down.

She cried the entire way home. But other than that, she was silent.

While Toby and Daisy would confess to Ann’s parents (and their own parents) where they went, Ann refused to talk about the whole thing. Toby, Daisy, and Kelley were all grounded for the next month. Ann wasn’t allowed to watch TV or cartoons for a single day (as whatever she seen at the old studio had been enough of a punishment, her parents decided). But, on the matter of the studio, she was silent.

She was silent when her parents, and then her uncles, and then finally her grandma, asked her what she had seen in the studio.

Ann still talked, just like any other little girl. She played games with her baby brother, yelled at him to stop touching her dolls when having her tea parties, she laughed, she made silly faces, and she still spoke just like any other little girl her age.

Just not of what happened.

Perhaps it was because it had confused her. Her grandpa had disappeared when she was only five, and she had loved him dearly. Maybe seeing him again had put her into a miniature shock. Perhaps it was the noises she heard. The heartbeat, that she still wasn’t sure was hers or not, and the odd distortion her grandfathers voice took on as he spoke to her. Or perhaps it was that creature that loomed over them so menacingly, and grabbed her grandpa in such a manner that Ann knew, she just knew, it was bad.

Either way, Ann was silent on the matter. And she always asked whoever brought up the subject of the studio to not talk about it again, thank you very much.

Billy Brooks, a particularly spiteful boy in her class, had to learn this lesson the hard way, one rainy October day.

He had always been relentless when it came to teasing Ann. No one, least of all Ann, understood why he hated her with such a passion, but he did. He always led the charge when it came the bullying and the teasing. One day, when the class was supposed to be silently practicing the spelling of the words ‘Thought’, ‘Strong’, and ‘Stream’, Billy began.

What he said made Ann angry. He called her a wimp, a scaredy cat, a chicken, and every horrible combination thereof. He poked her, telling her she was dumb and useless and scared. He told her of how he planned to lock her in the old Joey Drew Studios and leave her there overnight. But Ann held it together throughout it all, only shaking with mild anger.

Then Billy Brooks said she was just as dumb and useless as her Grandpa, and maybe she ought to go join him in the studio with all the ghosts and monsters.

That made Ann see red.

She would not recall what happened next, the red consumed her vision and she had no control over her actions. But, Ann later overheard the conversation between her parents and the principal and found out what happened. She had screamed and lunged at Billy, knocking him to the ground. And though Billy was by far the tallest and biggest boy in her class, Ann kept him pinned to ground. She just kept hitting him, and smacking him, and punching him. She just kept going and going and going. It had taken her teacher, a substitute teacher from down the hall, and the principal himself to get Ann off of Billy, and even then, she kept swinging her skinny arms and kicking her little legs, trying to hurt him. To get even with him. To make him feel a fraction of the pain she had felt since meeting him in kindergarten.

Ann had given Billy a blackeye, knocked out a couple teeth, and gave him enough scratches to make it look like he lost a fight with a rabid racoon.

She was given detention for an entire month (her first time getting detention, but not her last), and grounded at home for two as punishment for beating up a student. But Ann’s parents were quick to point out that this was a long time coming, as they had brought their daughter’s bullying problem to the school’s attention since kindergarten, but nothing had been done.

Ann was moved into the other third grade class, and was pleased to find that they were much nicer than the kids in her other class. Still, word spread quickly of what Ann had done, and no one knew not to mess with her again.

Billy Brooks flinched at the sight of Ann up until eight grade, then his family moved to Ypsilanti, Michigan and no one saw him again. Ann didn’t care. No one picked on her anymore, she was making friends, and she had a reputation as the toughest kid in school. At least, until Stephen Wendsale transferred from Akron, Ohio in the seventh grade and threw a dodgeball so hard it cracked the brick wall outside the gym. Then Ann became the toughest _girl_ in school, which was still a high honor considering her short stature.

But she still had nightmare about what she saw in the studio for the longest time.


	2. Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Created for The Ink Demonth on tumblr; Prompt is LIght. Maybe someday I'll write the actual story this is based off of...

Ann’s knuckles were as white as a sheet with how tightly she was gripping the side of the boat. The giant ink hand ( _Why does Drew have that? What—who—could it have been before?_ ) had sank back into the river of ink. As it did every single time they approached the Village.

Lacie’s arms squeaked through rusty hinges and gears in the animatronic abdomen whirred loudly next to Ann’s ears. The former park engineer placed her robotic hand on Ann. _“Are you ok?”_ she asked without having (or being able) to say a word.

“This is the easy part,” Ann told the animatronic, “by comparison, anyway.”

And, really, this was easier. Especially now that all four of them were in the boat. Tom at the wheel, Lacie and Allison at the back to prevent the paddle wheel from locking up to much, and Ann with the Looking Glass (as she referred to it) standing by Tom’s side, guiding the old dog down the river and letting him know when and where to gun it (the perks of this being a time she remembered past loops).

Once the Lost Village was in sight, after a few narrow misses, Ann had sat on the floor of the boat.

Exhausting as it was, this was the easiest part of the entire studio run.

Between starting up the machine (terrible), trusting Bendy time and time again only to be betrayed (that made her sick), dealing with Sammy and Alice’s—Malice, no Susie!—just general bat shit crazy bull shit (her head still hurts), and everything in between, that little boat ride was easy.

It probably helped that this was one of the only loops (that she could remember anyway), where Tom led Ann out of her prison cell before the Ink Demon showed up. There were at least two, maybe three, days of Ann tidying up the safe house as best she could, helping Lacie with her repairs, chatting with Allison, and drawing pictures for Tom.

The old wolf, former mechanic, never did tell Ann why he wanted her drawings. Maybe they reminded him of how things were here before the machine.

Ann couldn’t help but wonder what that was like.

But, of course, the Ink Demon had to rear his ugly, grinning face near the hideout. Tom, Allison, and Lacie were spooked and despite knowing that nothing really came out of it (one loop she remembered was her staying in the safehouse for up to five days before Drew all but forced her out), Ann followed them. Followed them out into the studio, knowing but never be able to say what happened.

Parking the boat, Tom helped Allison and Ann out of the boat, and let Lacie get in front of him before waiting a moment ( _Always a guard dog_ , Ann mused) at the dock.

The Lost Village was just as quite as Ann always remembered it being. **_NOT MONSTERS_** _(ONCE PEOPLE, NOW FALLEN INTO DESPAIR)_ still written above the section where Sammy Lawrence sometimes appeared.

Sometimes.

Other times it was from another building, sometimes he snuck up behind her when she wasn’t looking, and one time he waited for the Searcher army to tire her out and then he jumped her from behind.

Considering the board were broken and Ann could see into the building he usually jumped out of, the dark-haired woman figured that Sammy was going to do something with a little more dramatic flair this time around.

“It’s a bit to quiet for my comfort.” Allison said, the angel hand hovering near the hilt of her sword. Tom’s axe was in his hand as he glared out around the village, and Lacie simply flexed the animatronic fingers. Ann frowned a bit.

“Yeah, it is. Anyone see a weapon I can use lying around?” Upon the odd look Tom and probably Lacie (it was hard to read expression when an animatronic had only one facial expression, and that expression was also sort of cut in half) gave her, Ann clarified. “I got a bad feeling about this place.”

As Tom walked over and ripped the pipe from the side of a makeshift building (Ann was grateful he could do it without toppling the structure) for her to use, Allison surveyed the area. “It is quite. Usually Sammy’s flock is out doing something.”

The gears in the animatronics’ chest whirred and spun as Lacie gestured to the building behind Ann. The other three glanced over and noticed how dark the area was. While the other toonified people and Ann readied there weapons, Lacie picked up a piece of scrap metal (why it was there, no one really knows) and chucked it towards the building.

With a low roar that sounded like a moan of pain, a searcher’s inky arm shot out and grabbed the scrap metal, hurling back at such a speed Ann was barely able to dodge it. “Watch out!” Allison shouted. “Here they come.”

And come they did. Searcher after Searcher, Lost One after Lost One, Mine-Guy after Mine-Guy. Ann was glad that she grabbed the pipe to use as a weapon when she did, because sometimes she had to run and hide when these guys showed up. Feeling useless in a fight was one thing, feeling useless in a fight when you knew that under normal circumstances you could hold your own was another, feeling useless in a fight when you knew what was actually happening was another thing entirely.

After Lacie had slammed the final Mine-Guy into the ground, and Tom and Allison had sheathed there respective weapons, Ann exhaled. They did it. One battle down… _Infinity to go_. Still, next was Sammy. And unless Drew had put in a change into the script, the next bit should be fairly smooth sailing, though Ann wasn’t looking forward to falling down again.

_How about some variety?_

Ann spun around. _Where is it?_ She thought. _What’s happening? What did he put in?_

Then she heard it. The low, slow rumbling, the groaning that can only come from deep in the throat. The moaning scream of the largest searcher in the studio. Ann had only seen that one a couple of loops. Once in the Heavenly Toys department and once hear, in the village, when Sammy felt like being a particularly dramatic son of a bitch. But before, that large searcher seemed to be just looming around, it’s massive girth taking out just about everything in it’s path, with little care to what or who was in its path.

This time, Ann watched, frozen in horror, as it raised it’s fist high into the air…

Right above Tom’s head.

“Tom!” Ann screamed. “Above you!”

The wolf glanced up and his face flashed with surprise at having been caught off guard, and then the Giant Searcher’s fist sailed down towards Tom. Ann dropped the pipe she held; she knew it wouldn’t do much good against the searcher before her. She heard Allison shout something (Ann’s name, Tom’s name, a war cry, who knows?) and Lacie made a guttural noise that sounded like an engine flooding under water.

Just as Ann slammed into Tom, trying to shove him out of the way, the fist slammed down onto both of them.

* * *

**_Wh… Where… What happened?_ **

**_Ann slowly blinked her eyes open. She couldn’t breathe._ **

**_It was dark, it was wet, it was cold. She couldn’t breathe._ **

**_Her mouth shot open and liquid simultaneously entered and exited her lungs. It burned._ **

**_̴̖̘̺̜̃̈́̏͆͆͗̈́̽̉͝_**

**_e̸̯͚̩͔̟̖͖̒̿̾͌̓̏̈́ͅē̵̡̡͉̺͍̬̰͍̭r̸̳͕̐̊̑̂͋͗̇͊̚f̶̢̙̐͠ ̴̛͖̦̥̟̘͖̩͕͓̭̜̳͕̒͌̓̈́̿̽̌̇̚͘͝͝s̷̤͓̪͉͐̾͐͂͗͑ǔ̴̢̼̩͉̦̖̩ ̷̱̤͙̜̯̈́̎͝t̶̩̭̺̟̮̝̳̲̫̏̐̾e̴͖̝̜̭̱̖͈̫͋̃͒s̷̨̫̳̥̜͍̩̪̏͜ ̴̡͇͇̣̗̯̲̱̗̅͒͜͝͝ļ̵̞͋̈́l̴̨̡̡̗̠̤̼͖͖̘͎̥͖̳͊͂̋̄͑̍̕͠͝i̷̢̙̺̙̥̙͓̩̙̯͌̓̑̅̎̎̍̚͜͝͝w̵̨͈̥̰͖̼̯̹̳̮̼͕̃͌̈̃̄̓̍̇͒̔̌̅̕͝ͅ ̸̬̺̻̻̲̟̙̝͍̥̩́ę̶̟͚̥̤̼̘̹̹̠̇̆̏̋H̶̱̝͇̦̭̠͔̗͕̄͗̃̈́̓͆͘͘͜͝͝ ̷̧͍͉͓̮̤̘͓̙̺̘̱̜͠!̵͉̣̻̘̽̔̒̽͐͛͂̋̀̚͝͝e̵̡̳͎̮̞̞̕͝͠m̴̟̗̣̗̹͇͇͕̺̜̻͓͓͒̅̈o̴̡̡̙̟̻̪̩̗͙̘̩h̶̡̡̞̭̪͖̦͎̬̰͐̈́̽̒̆́̉͊̍̀̍͘͠ ̸̧̞͓̙͈̠̲̣̝̼͍̋̂͌͂o̶̰̜͆̏́̈́̍͆͋̅̚ģ̸̪̺̖̣̪̞̘͍̹͙̄̑̇ ̶̼̭̖̯̱̝̬̀̀͋̔̄ͅo̵̡̝͍̯͗̈́͌͛͑͌͌͘͝ț̸͕̩̖̱̖̜̼̕ ̶̡̢̫̮̭͈͖̫͖̦̄̌̆̾̒̔͝t̶̡̼̫̟̺̩̣̹̄͑́̅͆̚n̶̡͚̳̱̺̞̙̝̗͈͋͛͋a̶͖̦͐͂͒͜͝w̵̹̙̋͛͗̍̒̅̈́͒͠ ̸͉̜̜̻͚͙̘͈̻̪̅I̶̶̡̨̢̢͇̮͙̰̦̞̳͖̗͎̬͑̽̉̂̈̆̇̾̔̊̍̿̉̏̅͜͠!̴̧̖͓̮͔̫̝̫̳̟͖̜͐͊̊́̂̄̃̔͠e̴̞̻̬͎͉̦̙͙͈̦̲̘͒̎͛̅̃͗̇̈́̃̀̕r̴͎̠̦̹̤̥̖̝̖̳̩̐͗̊̽̂͋̊͊e̷̺͊͗̔̈̿̎͛̃̾͘h̷̡̻̖͓̝̩̦̲͇̞̦͙͕̊̀ ̶̧̨̻̥̻̙͚̈́l̶̡̡̫̮̼̼̝̫̳͔͍̙̉͆̄̍͑̃͛ļ̴̨̛̰̟͓͖̼̩͕͚̼̣͗̾͆̅̐͌̓̑͘i̶̫̼͔̠͖̺̹̘͇̭̪̙̫̟͗̈́̎̍̃̄͌͝ţ̷̧̣̠͎͓̺̜̦̰̫͇͋̑̓̄̈́͆͋̈̓̚̚͝͠s̷̨̲̤̲̖̟̘̘̃͗̔̀͊̂̿͋͘͝ ̶̨̢̯̺͇̝̩͕͉͈̜͂͗m̶̺̅̈́̆̍͛͋̐̕͠'̴̛̦͎̺̻̊͑̈́̎̔̇̄͌͝ͅĮ̵̵̻̪̯̪̮͉̪̺̖̰̮̙̦͖͍͖͐̿͆͛͆̈̔̾̎̔́͆͆̊͗̽͒͠!̴̧̹̼͍͚͌͊̆̈̑̏̈͋̈́l̷̅̽̈́̑͠ͅẹ̷̡̨̧͍̮̙̯͓͖̩͊̐͛̇̎̑̒̆͘͜͜g̵̝̓͂̍̓̓͂͊ņ̷̙̗̘͉̻̦̑͊͒͆̑͌͂͗̎͛̔͜ͅḀ̵̬͈̖̼̟͚̫͉͑̈́͑̈́͋̔̋́̚ ̶̧̙̘̪̤͍͚͔͕̪͈͔̝̫́̋͌͊̾̽̎̀̚͝e̵͖͙̱̖͈̻͔͓̩̺̫̟͗̈́̒͐͑͆̎ͅc̴̡̛̻͕̱̬͎̪͚̗̲͊̃́͘i̴̖͓̾͑̅̽͛̀͌͗́̎̇̽͝l̶̡̛͉̭̖͎̱͖͔̇͌́̉̒̉̍̿̂͌͘ͅĄ̴̦̻̟͍̲̳̬͓̾̾̅̾̽̂͋͊̕͝ ̵̧̛̽͌̋̊̆̏̅̌̄̚̚͠m̸̢̿͑̌̎͝'̷͈͉̠͗̓͝Ï̴̮̺̈́̏͛͋͒̒̔͗̿̍́̊̾͠ ̴̖̘̺̜̃̈́̏͆͆͗̈́̽̉͝e̸̯͚̩͔̟̖͖̒̿̾͌̓̏̈́ͅē̵̡̡͉̺͍̬̰͍̭r̸̳͕̐̊̑̂͋͗̇͊̚f̶̢̙̐͠ ̴̛͖̦̥̟̘͖̩͕͓̭̜̳͕̒͌̓̈́̿̽̌̇̚͘͝͝s̷̤͓̪͉͐̾͐͂͗͑ǔ̴̢̼̩͉̦̖̩ ̷̱̤͙̜̯̈́̎͝t̶̩̭̺̟̮̝̳̲̫̏̐̾e̴͖̝̜̭̱̖͈̫͋̃͒s̷̨̫̳̥̜͍̩̪̏͜ ̴̡͇͇̣̗̯̲̱̗̅͒͜͝͝ļ̵̞͋̈́l̴̨̡̡̗̠̤̼͖͖̘͎̥͖̳͊͂̋̄͑̍̕͠͝i̷̢̙̺̙̥̙͓̩̙̯͌̓̑̅̎̎̍̚͜͝͝w̵̨͈̥̰͖̼̯̹̳̮̼͕̃͌̈̃̄̓̍̇͒̔̌̅̕͝ͅ ̸̬̺̻̻̲̟̙̝͍̥̩́ę̶̟͚̥̤̼̘̹̹̠̇̆̏̋H̶̱̝͇̦̭̠͔̗͕̄͗̃̈́̓͆͘͘͜͝͝ ̷̧͍͉͓̮̤̘͓̙̺̘̱̜͠!̵͉̣̻̘̽̔̒̽͐͛͂̋̀̚͝͝e̵̡̳͎̮̞̞̕͝͠m̴̟̗̣̗̹͇͇͕̺̜̻͓͓͒̅̈o̴̡̡̙̟̻̪̩̗͙̘̩h̶̡̡̞̭̪͖̦͎̬̰͐̈́̽̒̆́̉͊̍̀̍͘͠ ̸̧̞͓̙͈̠̲̣̝̼͍̋̂͌͂o̶̰̜͆̏́̈́̍͆͋̅̚ģ̸̪̺̖̣̪̞̘͍̹͙̄̑̇ ̶̼̭̖̯̱̝̬̀̀͋̔̄ͅo̵̡̝͍̯͗̈́͌͛͑͌͌͘͝ț̸͕̩̖̱̖̜̼̕ ̶̡̢̫̮̭͈͖̫͖̦̄̌̆̾̒̔͝t̶̡̼̫̟̺̩̣̹̄͑́̅͆̚n̶̡͚̳̱̺̞̙̝̗͈͋͛͋a̶͖̦͐͂͒͜͝w̵̹̙̋͛͗̍̒̅̈́͒͠ ̸͉̜̜̻͚͙̘͈̻̪̅I̶̶̡̨̢̢͇̮͙̰̦̞̳͖̗͎̬͑̽̉̂̈̆̇̾̔̊̍̿̉̏̅͜͠!̴̧̖͓̮͔̫̝̫̳̟͖̜͐͊̊́̂̄̃̔͠e̴̞̻̬͎͉̦̙͙͈̦̲̘͒̎͛̅̃͗̇̈́̃̀̕r̴͎̠̦̹̤̥̖̝̖̳̩̐͗̊̽̂͋̊͊e̷̺͊͗̔̈̿̎͛̃̾͘h̷̡̻̖͓̝̩̦̲͇̞̦͙͕̊̀ ̶̧̨̻̥̻̙͚̈́l̶̡̡̫̮̼̼̝̫̳͔͍̙̉͆̄̍͑̃͛ļ̴̨̛̰̟͓͖̼̩͕͚̼̣͗̾͆̅̐͌̓̑͘i̶̫̼͔̠͖̺̹̘͇̭̪̙̫̟͗̈́̎̍̃̄͌͝ţ̷̧̣̠͎͓̺̜̦̰̫͇͋̑̓̄̈́͆͋̈̓̚̚͝͠s̷̨̲̤̲̖̟̘̘̃͗̔̀͊̂̿͋͘͝ ̶̨̢̯̺͇̝̩͕͉͈̜͂͗m̶̺̅̈́̆̍͛͋̐̕͠'̴̛̦͎̺̻̊͑̈́̎̔̇̄͌͝ͅĮ̵̵̻̪̯̪̮͉̪̺̖̰̮̙̦͖͍͖͐̿͆͛͆̈̔̾̎̔́͆͆̊͗̽͒͠!̴̧̹̼͍͚͌͊̆̈̑̏̈͋̈́l̷̅̽̈́̑͠ͅẹ̷̡̨̧͍̮̙̯͓͖̩͊̐͛̇̎̑̒̆͘͜͜g̵̝̓͂̍̓̓͂͊ņ̷̙̗̘͉̻̦̑͊͒͆̑͌͂͗̎͛̔͜ͅḀ̵̬͈̖̼̟͚̫͉͑̈́͑̈́͋̔̋́̚ ̶̧̙̘̪̤͍͚͔͕̪͈͔̝̫́̋͌͊̾̽̎̀̚͝e̵͖͙̱̖͈̻͔͓̩̺̫̟͗̈́̒͐͑͆̎ͅc̴̡̛̻͕̱̬͎̪͚̗̲͊̃́͘i̴̖͓̾͑̅̽͛̀͌͗́̎̇̽͝l̶̡̛͉̭̖͎̱͖͔̇͌́̉̒̉̍̿̂͌͘ͅĄ̴̦̻̟͍̲̳̬͓̾̾̅̾̽̂͋͊̕͝ ̵̧̛̽͌̋̊̆̏̅̌̄̚̚͠m̸̢̿͑̌̎͝'̷͈͉̠͗̓͝Ï̴̮̺̈́̏͛͋͒̒̔͗̿̍́̊̾͠ ̴̖̘̺̜̃̈́̏͆͆͗̈́̽̉͝e̸̯͚̩͔̟̖͖̒̿̾͌̓̏̈́ͅē̵̡̡͉̺͍̬̰͍̭r̸̳͕̐̊̑̂͋͗̇͊̚f̶̢̙̐͠ ̴̛͖̦̥̟̘͖̩͕͓̭̜̳͕̒͌̓̈́̿̽̌̇̚͘͝͝s̷̤͓̪͉͐̾͐͂͗͑ǔ̴̢̼̩͉̦̖̩ ̷̱̤͙̜̯̈́̎͝t̶̩̭̺̟̮̝̳̲̫̏̐̾e̴͖̝̜̭̱̖͈̫͋̃͒s̷̨̫̳̥̜͍̩̪̏͜ ̴̡͇͇̣̗̯̲̱̗̅͒͜͝͝ļ̵̞͋̈́l̴̨̡̡̗̠̤̼͖͖̘͎̥͖̳͊͂̋̄͑̍̕͠͝i̷̢̙̺̙̥̙͓̩̙̯͌̓̑̅̎̎̍̚͜͝͝w̵̨͈̥̰͖̼̯̹̳̮̼͕̃͌̈̃̄̓̍̇͒̔̌̅̕͝ͅ ̸̬̺̻̻̲̟̙̝͍̥̩́ę̶̟͚̥̤̼̘̹̹̠̇̆̏̋H̶̱̝͇̦̭̠͔̗͕̄͗̃̈́̓͆͘͘͜͝͝ ̷̧͍͉͓̮̤̘͓̙̺̘̱̜͠!̵͉̣̻̘̽̔̒̽͐͛͂̋̀̚͝͝e̵̡̳͎̮̞̞̕͝͠m̴̟̗̣̗̹͇͇͕̺̜̻͓͓͒̅̈o̴̡̡̙̟̻̪̩̗͙̘̩h̶̡̡̞̭̪͖̦͎̬̰͐̈́̽̒̆́̉͊̍̀̍͘͠ ̸̧̞͓̙͈̠̲̣̝̼͍̋̂͌͂o̶̰̜͆̏́̈́̍͆͋̅̚ģ̸̪̺̖̣̪̞̘͍̹͙̄̑̇ ̶̼̭̖̯̱̝̬̀̀͋̔̄ͅo̵̡̝͍̯͗̈́͌͛͑͌͌͘͝ț̸͕̩̖̱̖̜̼̕ ̶̡̢̫̮̭͈͖̫͖̦̄̌̆̾̒̔͝t̶̡̼̫̟̺̩̣̹̄͑́̅͆̚n̶̡͚̳̱̺̞̙̝̗͈͋͛͋a̶͖̦͐͂͒͜͝w̵̹̙̋͛͗̍̒̅̈́͒͠ ̸͉̜̜̻͚͙̘͈̻̪̅I̶̶̡̨̢̢͇̮͙̰̦̞̳͖̗͎̬͑̽̉̂̈̆̇̾̔̊̍̿̉̏̅͜͠!̴̧̖͓̮͔̫̝̫̳̟͖̜͐͊̊́̂̄̃̔͠e̴̞̻̬͎͉̦̙͙͈̦̲̘͒̎͛̅̃͗̇̈́̃̀̕r̴͎̠̦̹̤̥̖̝̖̳̩̐͗̊̽̂͋̊͊e̷̺͊͗̔̈̿̎͛̃̾͘h̷̡̻̖͓̝̩̦̲͇̞̦͙͕̊̀ ̶̧̨̻̥̻̙͚̈́l̶̡̡̫̮̼̼̝̫̳͔͍̙̉͆̄̍͑̃͛ļ̴̨̛̰̟͓͖̼̩͕͚̼̣͗̾͆̅̐͌̓̑͘i̶̫̼͔̠͖̺̹̘͇̭̪̙̫̟͗̈́̎̍̃̄͌͝ţ̷̧̣̠͎͓̺̜̦̰̫͇͋̑̓̄̈́͆͋̈̓̚̚͝͠s̷̨̲̤̲̖̟̘̘̃͗̔̀͊̂̿͋͘͝ ̶̨̢̯̺͇̝̩͕͉͈̜͂͗m̶̺̅̈́̆̍͛͋̐̕͠'̴̛̦͎̺̻̊͑̈́̎̔̇̄͌͝ͅĮ̵̵̻̪̯̪̮͉̪̺̖̰̮̙̦͖͍͖͐̿͆͛͆̈̔̾̎̔́͆͆̊͗̽͒͠!̴̧̹̼͍͚͌͊̆̈̑̏̈͋̈́l̷̅̽̈́̑͠ͅẹ̷̡̨̧͍̮̙̯͓͖̩͊̐͛̇̎̑̒̆͘͜͜g̵̝̓͂̍̓̓͂͊ņ̷̙̗̘͉̻̦̑͊͒͆̑͌͂͗̎͛̔͜ͅḀ̵̬͈̖̼̟͚̫͉͑̈́͑̈́͋̔̋́̚ ̶̧̙̘̪̤͍͚͔͕̪͈͔̝̫́̋͌͊̾̽̎̀̚͝e̵͖͙̱̖͈̻͔͓̩̺̫̟͗̈́̒͐͑͆̎ͅc̴̡̛̻͕̱̬͎̪͚̗̲͊̃́͘i̴̖͓̾͑̅̽͛̀͌͗́̎̇̽͝l̶̡̛͉̭̖͎̱͖͔̇͌́̉̒̉̍̿̂͌͘ͅĄ̴̦̻̟͍̲̳̬͓̾̾̅̾̽̂͋͊̕͝ ̵̧̛̽͌̋̊̆̏̅̌̄̚̚͠m̸̢̿͑̌̎͝'̷͈͉̠͗̓͝Ï̴̮̺̈́̏͛͋͒̒̔͗̿̍́̊̾͠ ̴̖̘̺̜̃̈́̏͆͆͗̈́̽̉͝e̸̯͚̩͔̟̖͖̒̿̾͌̓̏̈́ͅē̵̡̡͉̺͍̬̰͍̭r̸̳͕̐̊̑̂͋͗̇͊̚f̶̢̙̐͠ ̴̛͖̦̥̟̘͖̩͕͓̭̜̳͕̒͌̓̈́̿̽̌̇̚͘͝͝s̷̤͓̪͉͐̾͐͂͗͑ǔ̴̢̼̩͉̦̖̩ ̷̱̤͙̜̯̈́̎͝t̶̩̭̺̟̮̝̳̲̫̏̐̾e̴͖̝̜̭̱̖͈̫͋̃͒s̷̨̫̳̥̜͍̩̪̏͜ ̴̡͇͇̣̗̯̲̱̗̅͒͜͝͝ļ̵̞͋̈́l̴̨̡̡̗̠̤̼͖͖̘͎̥͖̳͊͂̋̄͑̍̕͠͝i̷̢̙̺̙̥̙͓̩̙̯͌̓̑̅̎̎̍̚͜͝͝w̵̨͈̥̰͖̼̯̹̳̮̼͕̃͌̈̃̄̓̍̇͒̔̌̅̕͝ͅ ̸̬̺̻̻̲̟̙̝͍̥̩́ę̶̟͚̥̤̼̘̹̹̠̇̆̏̋H̶̱̝͇̦̭̠͔̗͕̄͗̃̈́̓͆͘͘͜͝͝ ̷̧͍͉͓̮̤̘͓̙̺̘̱̜͠!̵͉̣̻̘̽̔̒̽͐͛͂̋̀̚͝͝e̵̡̳͎̮̞̞̕͝͠m̴̟̗̣̗̹͇͇͕̺̜̻͓͓͒̅̈o̴̡̡̙̟̻̪̩̗͙̘̩h̶̡̡̞̭̪͖̦͎̬̰͐̈́̽̒̆́̉͊̍̀̍͘͠ ̸̧̞͓̙͈̠̲̣̝̼͍̋̂͌͂o̶̰̜͆̏́̈́̍͆͋̅̚ģ̸̪̺̖̣̪̞̘͍̹͙̄̑̇ ̶̼̭̖̯̱̝̬̀̀͋̔̄ͅo̵̡̝͍̯͗̈́͌͛͑͌͌͘͝ț̸͕̩̖̱̖̜̼̕ ̶̡̢̫̮̭͈͖̫͖̦̄̌̆̾̒̔͝t̶̡̼̫̟̺̩̣̹̄͑́̅͆̚n̶̡͚̳̱̺̞̙̝̗͈͋͛͋a̶͖̦͐͂͒͜͝w̵̹̙̋͛͗̍̒̅̈́͒͠ ̸͉̜̜̻͚͙̘͈̻̪̅I̶̶̡̨̢̢͇̮͙̰̦̞̳͖̗͎̬͑̽̉̂̈̆̇̾̔̊̍̿̉̏̅͜͠!̴̧̖͓̮͔̫̝̫̳̟͖̜͐͊̊́̂̄̃̔͠e̴̞̻̬͎͉̦̙͙͈̦̲̘͒̎͛̅̃͗̇̈́̃̀̕r̴͎̠̦̹̤̥̖̝̖̳̩̐͗̊̽̂͋̊͊e̷̺͊͗̔̈̿̎͛̃̾͘h̷̡̻̖͓̝̩̦̲͇̞̦͙͕̊̀ ̶̧̨̻̥̻̙͚̈́l̶̡̡̫̮̼̼̝̫̳͔͍̙̉͆̄̍͑̃͛ļ̴̨̛̰̟͓͖̼̩͕͚̼̣͗̾͆̅̐͌̓̑͘i̶̫̼͔̠͖̺̹̘͇̭̪̙̫̟͗̈́̎̍̃̄͌͝ţ̷̧̣̠͎͓̺̜̦̰̫͇͋̑̓̄̈́͆͋̈̓̚̚͝͠s̷̨̲̤̲̖̟̘̘̃͗̔̀͊̂̿͋͘͝ ̶̨̢̯̺͇̝̩͕͉͈̜͂͗m̶̺̅̈́̆̍͛͋̐̕͠'̴̛̦͎̺̻̊͑̈́̎̔̇̄͌͝ͅĮ̵̵̻̪̯̪̮͉̪̺̖̰̮̙̦͖͍͖͐̿͆͛͆̈̔̾̎̔́͆͆̊͗̽͒͠!̴̧̹̼͍͚͌͊̆̈̑̏̈͋̈́l̷̅̽̈́̑͠ͅẹ̷̡̨̧͍̮̙̯͓͖̩͊̐͛̇̎̑̒̆͘͜͜g̵̝̓͂̍̓̓͂͊ņ̷̙̗̘͉̻̦̑͊͒͆̑͌͂͗̎͛̔͜ͅḀ̵̬͈̖̼̟͚̫͉͑̈́͑̈́͋̔̋́̚ ̶̧̙̘̪̤͍͚͔͕̪͈͔̝̫́̋͌͊̾̽̎̀̚͝e̵͖͙̱̖͈̻͔͓̩̺̫̟͗̈́̒͐͑͆̎ͅc̴̡̛̻͕̱̬͎̪͚̗̲͊̃́͘i̴̖͓̾͑̅̽͛̀͌͗́̎̇̽͝l̶̡̛͉̭̖͎̱͖͔̇͌́̉̒̉̍̿̂͌͘ͅĄ̴̦̻̟͍̲̳̬͓̾̾̅̾̽̂͋͊̕͝ ̵̧̛̽͌̋̊̆̏̅̌̄̚̚͠m̸̢̿͑̌̎͝'̷͈͉̠͗̓͝Ï̴̮̺̈́̏͛͋͒̒̔͗̿̍́̊̾͠ ̴̖̘̺̜̃̈́̏͆͆͗̈́̽̉͝e̸̯͚̩͔̟̖͖̒̿̾͌̓̏̈́ͅē̵̡̡͉̺͍̬̰͍̭r̸̳͕̐̊̑̂͋͗̇͊̚f̶̢̙̐͠ ̴̛͖̦̥̟̘͖̩͕͓̭̜̳͕̒͌̓̈́̿̽̌̇̚͘͝͝s̷̤͓̪͉͐̾͐͂͗͑ǔ̴̢̼̩͉̦̖̩ ̷̱̤͙̜̯̈́̎͝t̶̩̭̺̟̮̝̳̲̫̏̐̾e̴͖̝̜̭̱̖͈̫͋̃͒s̷̨̫̳̥̜͍̩̪̏͜ ̴̡͇͇̣̗̯̲̱̗̅͒͜͝͝ļ̵̞͋̈́l̴̨̡̡̗̠̤̼͖͖̘͎̥͖̳͊͂̋̄͑̍̕͠͝i̷̢̙̺̙̥̙͓̩̙̯͌̓̑̅̎̎̍̚͜͝͝w̵̨͈̥̰͖̼̯̹̳̮̼͕̃͌̈̃̄̓̍̇͒̔̌̅̕͝ͅ ̸̬̺̻̻̲̟̙̝͍̥̩́ę̶̟͚̥̤̼̘̹̹̠̇̆̏̋H̶̱̝͇̦̭̠͔̗͕̄͗̃̈́̓͆͘͘͜͝͝ ̷̧͍͉͓̮̤̘͓̙̺̘̱̜͠!̵͉̣̻̘̽̔̒̽͐͛͂̋̀̚͝͝e̵̡̳͎̮̞̞̕͝͠m̴̟̗̣̗̹͇͇͕̺̜̻͓͓͒̅̈o̴̡̡̙̟̻̪̩̗͙̘̩h̶̡̡̞̭̪͖̦͎̬̰͐̈́̽̒̆́̉͊̍̀̍͘͠ ̸̧̞͓̙͈̠̲̣̝̼͍̋̂͌͂o̶̰̜͆̏́̈́̍͆͋̅̚ģ̸̪̺̖̣̪̞̘͍̹͙̄̑̇ ̶̼̭̖̯̱̝̬̀̀͋̔̄ͅo̵̡̝͍̯͗̈́͌͛͑͌͌͘͝ț̸͕̩̖̱̖̜̼̕ ̶̡̢̫̮̭͈͖̫͖̦̄̌̆̾̒̔͝t̶̡̼̫̟̺̩̣̹̄͑́̅͆̚n̶̡͚̳̱̺̞̙̝̗͈͋͛͋a̶͖̦͐͂͒͜͝w̵̹̙̋͛͗̍̒̅̈́͒͠ ̸͉̜̜̻͚͙̘͈̻̪̅I̶̶̡̨̢̢͇̮͙̰̦̞̳͖̗͎̬͑̽̉̂̈̆̇̾̔̊̍̿̉̏̅͜͠!̴̧̖͓̮͔̫̝̫̳̟͖̜͐͊̊́̂̄̃̔͠e̴̞̻̬͎͉̦̙͙͈̦̲̘͒̎͛̅̃͗̇̈́̃̀̕r̴͎̠̦̹̤̥̖̝̖̳̩̐͗̊̽̂͋̊͊e̷̺͊͗̔̈̿̎͛̃̾͘h̷̡̻̖͓̝̩̦̲͇̞̦͙͕̊̀ ̶̧̨̻̥̻̙͚̈́l̶̡̡̫̮̼̼̝̫̳͔͍̙̉͆̄̍͑̃͛ļ̴̨̛̰̟͓͖̼̩͕͚̼̣͗̾͆̅̐͌̓̑͘i̶̫̼͔̠͖̺̹̘͇̭̪̙̫̟͗̈́̎̍̃̄͌͝ţ̷̧̣̠͎͓̺̜̦̰̫͇͋̑̓̄̈́͆͋̈̓̚̚͝͠s̷̨̲̤̲̖̟̘̘̃͗̔̀͊̂̿͋͘͝ ̶̨̢̯̺͇̝̩͕͉͈̜͂͗m̶̺̅̈́̆̍͛͋̐̕͠'̴̛̦͎̺̻̊͑̈́̎̔̇̄͌͝ͅĮ̵̵̻̪̯̪̮͉̪̺̖̰̮̙̦͖͍͖͐̿͆͛͆̈̔̾̎̔́͆͆̊͗̽͒͠!̴̧̹̼͍͚͌͊̆̈̑̏̈͋̈́l̷̅̽̈́̑͠ͅẹ̷̡̨̧͍̮̙̯͓͖̩͊̐͛̇̎̑̒̆͘͜͜g̵̝̓͂̍̓̓͂͊ņ̷̙̗̘͉̻̦̑͊͒͆̑͌͂͗̎͛̔͜ͅḀ̵̬͈̖̼̟͚̫͉͑̈́͑̈́͋̔̋́̚ ̶̧̙̘̪̤͍͚͔͕̪͈͔̝̫́̋͌͊̾̽̎̀̚͝e̵͖͙̱̖͈̻͔͓̩̺̫̟͗̈́̒͐͑͆̎ͅc̴̡̛̻͕̱̬͎̪͚̗̲͊̃́͘i̴̖͓̾͑̅̽͛̀͌͗́̎̇̽͝l̶̡̛͉̭̖͎̱͖͔̇͌́̉̒̉̍̿̂͌͘ͅĄ̴̦̻̟͍̲̳̬͓̾̾̅̾̽̂͋͊̕͝ ̵̧̛̽͌̋̊̆̏̅̌̄̚̚͠m̸̢̿͑̌̎͝'̷͈͉̠͗̓͝Ï̴̮̺̈́̏͛͋͒̒̔͗̿̍́̊̾͠_ **

**_Oh God, all the voices! Ann placed her hands over her ears, but she could still hear them clear as day. Where were they coming from? Why was she here? Where was here?_ **

**_̷̺̥̦͈̳̙͍͚̅̀̿͊̈́̾̂̌k̴͙͈̰̱̮̗̾͂̌̅̅̐̀͒̎̀̚̚͝͠ņ̶̬̮͎̳͔̞̱̺̈̄̏͌I̶̡͇̩̥̦̮͚̻̯͔̦͕̻̿ ̸̡̗̬͔̫̱̽͋̔͗e̸̙͕̱̳̲͕̪̼͚̔̀͗͊h̴̛̩̯̎́̀̃̄͗͑ţ̶̗͆͐̊̏̒̓̾̉̉̍͐̓̈̎ ̶̢͙̲̈́͑͋̔̿͆̆̔̍̒͠͝n̶͚̟̫̟͚̠͉̭̪̩͇͋͗̈́͂͆͐̽̈́̏̽̅̕͝i̵̢̡̦̮̜̯̥̠̪̼͍̔̔ ̶̧̥̱̰̯̥̝̦̭̖̀͑̔͋e̷̢̢̧̯̰̺͓̲͈̺̜͚̫̣̒ŗ̴̹̠͖̩̭͖͖̳̗̟̲̼͍̟̾̓͑̈̀̔̂̅̿'̵̧̨̗̻͔̬͕̦͔͎̞̺͓͎͖̒͐͐̓̑̎̄̋͝͠u̴̡̳͙̝̻͍͎̺̲͎̱̻͎̠̩̒͐̾̓̅̒̾͋̓̀̕͝͝͝ȏ̴͚̜͖̌͊͗͋͊̈́͗Y̶̵̷̡̢̨̛̛̜̪͓̘͖͔̗͔̲͈̍̈́̔̑̂̐̈́̽͋̂̒̾̉̎́̉̇̓̇̇̍̓̉̿͋̎̉͆̄͊̚̕͜͜d̵̺͍͙̊̂͗̅̑̿̕ę̸̛̟̭̼̻̪̥̻͓̓̉̊̆̾͜͜i̸̛̦̦̠͚̬̔͑̐̓̈́d̸̡̡̩̪̭͚̗̬̬̫̃̂̔̑̈̀̆͊ ̷̧̱̩̫͉̝̳̣̼̫̗̩̑̓́̉̆̓̚͝ų̷̛̪̩͐̃̔̆̋̏̏͗̾̋̃̚͘ò̶͍̰̠̲̲̌͒̀͋̈́̚͘͠Y̴̷̛̤̫̯̩͙̝̤̳̠̞̹̫̠̫̗̪̯͉̐̓͊̈́̒̔̋̊̈́̎̍͗̍̽͑͘̚̕͜͠ṋ̶̟̭̮̣̆̊̔͗̽͛̿̇͘i̴͓͂͛̄̀͗͑͆̇̆à̴̡͖̭̭͇̤͍̻͖̞̯̈̑̚g̶͙̦̽͛̊̀̈́̂͝͠a̴͍̹͎͈͓̜̗̤̗͈͕̰͚͆̈́͒͛̒̑̚ ̵̡̫̣͂̆̈̂̇͊̾͆̋̈́̐̈̚͠,̷̤̯͍̩̳̃̊͆̾̑͐̒͋̽̋d̴̟͚̘̹̠͖͚̙̺̫͓͈̯̠̎͗͑̓̈́̅͊̐͒̾̚͜͝͝͠ę̶̧͖̠͎̲̞̤̣̣̝̱͂͂͜͝͝i̵͙͍̳̮̲̼̜̟̲̱͒̽̈́̿̓d̶͔͚̮̑͌̉̉͋̄̀̐̅̃̏̚͝ ̵̨̢̡̛̘̭̮͕̻̹̝̥̭͔̈͌̈́̎̆͆́͘̕͜͜u̸̞̫̺̰̼̲̲̽̐o̷͖͓̜̺͔͚̠̜̗̝̜͎̙̊͒̄̈́̿͝Y̸̶̨̡͚̗̼͇̭̼͓̬̹͔̼̝̬̬̞̘̜̣̳̌̄̓̒̒͌̀̈́̇̏͠͝͠ͅy̶̛̪̝͉̒̓͌r̶̢̘̘̟̞̈́̈́̔̍̓͑̓̚ͅŗ̸̞̰͎̯̹̲̰͙̲̮̺̰̒̊̔̏̓́̈́̈́̈͋͆͂̂̕͜ͅô̴̳̾͑͒̈́̐̍̓̕͝S̶̛̮̺͓̗̒͊͛͗͗̏̎͠ ̷̺̥̦͈̳̙͍͚̅̀̿͊̈́̾̂̌k̴͙͈̰̱̮̗̾͂̌̅̅̐̀͒̎̀̚̚͝͠ņ̶̬̮͎̳͔̞̱̺̈̄̏͌I̶̡͇̩̥̦̮͚̻̯͔̦͕̻̿ ̸̡̗̬͔̫̱̽͋̔͗e̸̙͕̱̳̲͕̪̼͚̔̀͗͊h̴̛̩̯̎́̀̃̄͗͑ţ̶̗͆͐̊̏̒̓̾̉̉̍͐̓̈̎ ̶̢͙̲̈́͑͋̔̿͆̆̔̍̒͠͝n̶͚̟̫̟͚̠͉̭̪̩͇͋͗̈́͂͆͐̽̈́̏̽̅̕͝i̵̢̡̦̮̜̯̥̠̪̼͍̔̔ ̶̧̥̱̰̯̥̝̦̭̖̀͑̔͋e̷̢̢̧̯̰̺͓̲͈̺̜͚̫̣̒ŗ̴̹̠͖̩̭͖͖̳̗̟̲̼͍̟̾̓͑̈̀̔̂̅̿'̵̧̨̗̻͔̬͕̦͔͎̞̺͓͎͖̒͐͐̓̑̎̄̋͝͠u̴̡̳͙̝̻͍͎̺̲͎̱̻͎̠̩̒͐̾̓̅̒̾͋̓̀̕͝͝͝ȏ̴͚̜͖̌͊͗͋͊̈́͗Y̶̵̷̡̢̨̛̛̜̪͓̘͖͔̗͔̲͈̍̈́̔̑̂̐̈́̽͋̂̒̾̉̎́̉̇̓̇̇̍̓̉̿͋̎̉͆̄͊̚̕͜͜d̵̺͍͙̊̂͗̅̑̿̕ę̸̛̟̭̼̻̪̥̻͓̓̉̊̆̾͜͜i̸̛̦̦̠͚̬̔͑̐̓̈́d̸̡̡̩̪̭͚̗̬̬̫̃̂̔̑̈̀̆͊ ̷̧̱̩̫͉̝̳̣̼̫̗̩̑̓́̉̆̓̚͝ų̷̛̪̩͐̃̔̆̋̏̏͗̾̋̃̚͘ò̶͍̰̠̲̲̌͒̀͋̈́̚͘͠Y̴̷̛̤̫̯̩͙̝̤̳̠̞̹̫̠̫̗̪̯͉̐̓͊̈́̒̔̋̊̈́̎̍͗̍̽͑͘̚̕͜͠ṋ̶̟̭̮̣̆̊̔͗̽͛̿̇͘i̴͓͂͛̄̀͗͑͆̇̆à̴̡͖̭̭͇̤͍̻͖̞̯̈̑̚g̶͙̦̽͛̊̀̈́̂͝͠a̴͍̹͎͈͓̜̗̤̗͈͕̰͚͆̈́͒͛̒̑̚ ̵̡̫̣͂̆̈̂̇͊̾͆̋̈́̐̈̚͠,̷̤̯͍̩̳̃̊͆̾̑͐̒͋̽̋d̴̟͚̘̹̠͖͚̙̺̫͓͈̯̠̎͗͑̓̈́̅͊̐͒̾̚͜͝͝͠ę̶̧͖̠͎̲̞̤̣̣̝̱͂͂͜͝͝i̵͙͍̳̮̲̼̜̟̲̱͒̽̈́̿̓d̶͔͚̮̑͌̉̉͋̄̀̐̅̃̏̚͝ ̵̨̢̡̛̘̭̮͕̻̹̝̥̭͔̈͌̈́̎̆͆́͘̕͜͜u̸̞̫̺̰̼̲̲̽̐o̷͖͓̜̺͔͚̠̜̗̝̜͎̙̊͒̄̈́̿͝Y̸̶̨̡͚̗̼͇̭̼͓̬̹͔̼̝̬̬̞̘̜̣̳̌̄̓̒̒͌̀̈́̇̏͠͝͠ͅy̶̛̪̝͉̒̓͌r̶̢̘̘̟̞̈́̈́̔̍̓͑̓̚ͅŗ̸̞̰͎̯̹̲̰͙̲̮̺̰̒̊̔̏̓́̈́̈́̈͋͆͂̂̕͜ͅô̴̳̾͑͒̈́̐̍̓̕͝S̶̛̮̺͓̗̒͊͛͗͗̏̎͠ ̷̺̥̦͈̳̙͍͚̅̀̿͊̈́̾̂̌k̴͙͈̰̱̮̗̾͂̌̅̅̐̀͒̎̀̚̚͝͠ņ̶̬̮͎̳͔̞̱̺̈̄̏͌I̶̡͇̩̥̦̮͚̻̯͔̦͕̻̿ ̸̡̗̬͔̫̱̽͋̔͗e̸̙͕̱̳̲͕̪̼͚̔̀͗͊h̴̛̩̯̎́̀̃̄͗͑ţ̶̗͆͐̊̏̒̓̾̉̉̍͐̓̈̎ ̶̢͙̲̈́͑͋̔̿͆̆̔̍̒͠͝n̶͚̟̫̟͚̠͉̭̪̩͇͋͗̈́͂͆͐̽̈́̏̽̅̕͝i̵̢̡̦̮̜̯̥̠̪̼͍̔̔ ̶̧̥̱̰̯̥̝̦̭̖̀͑̔͋e̷̢̢̧̯̰̺͓̲͈̺̜͚̫̣̒ŗ̴̹̠͖̩̭͖͖̳̗̟̲̼͍̟̾̓͑̈̀̔̂̅̿'̵̧̨̗̻͔̬͕̦͔͎̞̺͓͎͖̒͐͐̓̑̎̄̋͝͠u̴̡̳͙̝̻͍͎̺̲͎̱̻͎̠̩̒͐̾̓̅̒̾͋̓̀̕͝͝͝ȏ̴͚̜͖̌͊͗͋͊̈́͗Y̶̵̷̡̢̨̛̛̜̪͓̘͖͔̗͔̲͈̍̈́̔̑̂̐̈́̽͋̂̒̾̉̎́̉̇̓̇̇̍̓̉̿͋̎̉͆̄͊̚̕͜͜d̵̺͍͙̊̂͗̅̑̿̕ę̸̛̟̭̼̻̪̥̻͓̓̉̊̆̾͜͜i̸̛̦̦̠͚̬̔͑̐̓̈́d̸̡̡̩̪̭͚̗̬̬̫̃̂̔̑̈̀̆͊ ̷̧̱̩̫͉̝̳̣̼̫̗̩̑̓́̉̆̓̚͝ų̷̛̪̩͐̃̔̆̋̏̏͗̾̋̃̚͘ò̶͍̰̠̲̲̌͒̀͋̈́̚͘͠Y̴̷̛̤̫̯̩͙̝̤̳̠̞̹̫̠̫̗̪̯͉̐̓͊̈́̒̔̋̊̈́̎̍͗̍̽͑͘̚̕͜͠ṋ̶̟̭̮̣̆̊̔͗̽͛̿̇͘i̴͓͂͛̄̀͗͑͆̇̆à̴̡͖̭̭͇̤͍̻͖̞̯̈̑̚g̶͙̦̽͛̊̀̈́̂͝͠a̴͍̹͎͈͓̜̗̤̗͈͕̰͚͆̈́͒͛̒̑̚ ̵̡̫̣͂̆̈̂̇͊̾͆̋̈́̐̈̚͠,̷̤̯͍̩̳̃̊͆̾̑͐̒͋̽̋d̴̟͚̘̹̠͖͚̙̺̫͓͈̯̠̎͗͑̓̈́̅͊̐͒̾̚͜͝͝͠ę̶̧͖̠͎̲̞̤̣̣̝̱͂͂͜͝͝i̵͙͍̳̮̲̼̜̟̲̱͒̽̈́̿̓d̶͔͚̮̑͌̉̉͋̄̀̐̅̃̏̚͝ ̵̨̢̡̛̘̭̮͕̻̹̝̥̭͔̈͌̈́̎̆͆́͘̕͜͜u̸̞̫̺̰̼̲̲̽̐o̷͖͓̜̺͔͚̠̜̗̝̜͎̙̊͒̄̈́̿͝Y̸̶̨̡͚̗̼͇̭̼͓̬̹͔̼̝̬̬̞̘̜̣̳̌̄̓̒̒͌̀̈́̇̏͠͝͠ͅy̶̛̪̝͉̒̓͌r̶̢̘̘̟̞̈́̈́̔̍̓͑̓̚ͅŗ̸̞̰͎̯̹̲̰͙̲̮̺̰̒̊̔̏̓́̈́̈́̈͋͆͂̂̕͜ͅô̴̳̾͑͒̈́̐̍̓̕͝S̶̛̮̺͓̗̒͊͛͗͗̏̎͠ ̷̺̥̦͈̳̙͍͚̅̀̿͊̈́̾̂̌k̴͙͈̰̱̮̗̾͂̌̅̅̐̀͒̎̀̚̚͝͠ņ̶̬̮͎̳͔̞̱̺̈̄̏͌I̶̡͇̩̥̦̮͚̻̯͔̦͕̻̿ ̸̡̗̬͔̫̱̽͋̔͗e̸̙͕̱̳̲͕̪̼͚̔̀͗͊h̴̛̩̯̎́̀̃̄͗͑ţ̶̗͆͐̊̏̒̓̾̉̉̍͐̓̈̎ ̶̢͙̲̈́͑͋̔̿͆̆̔̍̒͠͝n̶͚̟̫̟͚̠͉̭̪̩͇͋͗̈́͂͆͐̽̈́̏̽̅̕͝i̵̢̡̦̮̜̯̥̠̪̼͍̔̔ ̶̧̥̱̰̯̥̝̦̭̖̀͑̔͋e̷̢̢̧̯̰̺͓̲͈̺̜͚̫̣̒ŗ̴̹̠͖̩̭͖͖̳̗̟̲̼͍̟̾̓͑̈̀̔̂̅̿'̵̧̨̗̻͔̬͕̦͔͎̞̺͓͎͖̒͐͐̓̑̎̄̋͝͠u̴̡̳͙̝̻͍͎̺̲͎̱̻͎̠̩̒͐̾̓̅̒̾͋̓̀̕͝͝͝ȏ̴͚̜͖̌͊͗͋͊̈́͗Y̶̵̷̡̢̨̛̛̜̪͓̘͖͔̗͔̲͈̍̈́̔̑̂̐̈́̽͋̂̒̾̉̎́̉̇̓̇̇̍̓̉̿͋̎̉͆̄͊̚̕͜͜d̵̺͍͙̊̂͗̅̑̿̕ę̸̛̟̭̼̻̪̥̻͓̓̉̊̆̾͜͜i̸̛̦̦̠͚̬̔͑̐̓̈́d̸̡̡̩̪̭͚̗̬̬̫̃̂̔̑̈̀̆͊ ̷̧̱̩̫͉̝̳̣̼̫̗̩̑̓́̉̆̓̚͝ų̷̛̪̩͐̃̔̆̋̏̏͗̾̋̃̚͘ò̶͍̰̠̲̲̌͒̀͋̈́̚͘͠Y̴̷̛̤̫̯̩͙̝̤̳̠̞̹̫̠̫̗̪̯͉̐̓͊̈́̒̔̋̊̈́̎̍͗̍̽͑͘̚̕͜͠ṋ̶̟̭̮̣̆̊̔͗̽͛̿̇͘i̴͓͂͛̄̀͗͑͆̇̆à̴̡͖̭̭͇̤͍̻͖̞̯̈̑̚g̶͙̦̽͛̊̀̈́̂͝͠a̴͍̹͎͈͓̜̗̤̗͈͕̰͚͆̈́͒͛̒̑̚ ̵̡̫̣͂̆̈̂̇͊̾͆̋̈́̐̈̚͠,̷̤̯͍̩̳̃̊͆̾̑͐̒͋̽̋d̴̟͚̘̹̠͖͚̙̺̫͓͈̯̠̎͗͑̓̈́̅͊̐͒̾̚͜͝͝͠ę̶̧͖̠͎̲̞̤̣̣̝̱͂͂͜͝͝i̵͙͍̳̮̲̼̜̟̲̱͒̽̈́̿̓d̶͔͚̮̑͌̉̉͋̄̀̐̅̃̏̚͝ ̵̨̢̡̛̘̭̮͕̻̹̝̥̭͔̈͌̈́̎̆͆́͘̕͜͜u̸̞̫̺̰̼̲̲̽̐o̷͖͓̜̺͔͚̠̜̗̝̜͎̙̊͒̄̈́̿͝Y̸̶̨̡͚̗̼͇̭̼͓̬̹͔̼̝̬̬̞̘̜̣̳̌̄̓̒̒͌̀̈́̇̏͠͝͠ͅy̶̛̪̝͉̒̓͌r̶̢̘̘̟̞̈́̈́̔̍̓͑̓̚ͅŗ̸̞̰͎̯̹̲̰͙̲̮̺̰̒̊̔̏̓́̈́̈́̈͋͆͂̂̕͜ͅô̴̳̾͑͒̈́̐̍̓̕͝S̶̛̮̺͓̗̒͊͛͗͗̏̎͠ ̷̺̥̦͈̳̙͍͚̅̀̿͊̈́̾̂̌k̴͙͈̰̱̮̗̾͂̌̅̅̐̀͒̎̀̚̚͝͠ņ̶̬̮͎̳͔̞̱̺̈̄̏͌I̶̡͇̩̥̦̮͚̻̯͔̦͕̻̿ ̸̡̗̬͔̫̱̽͋̔͗e̸̙͕̱̳̲͕̪̼͚̔̀͗͊h̴̛̩̯̎́̀̃̄͗͑ţ̶̗͆͐̊̏̒̓̾̉̉̍͐̓̈̎ ̶̢͙̲̈́͑͋̔̿͆̆̔̍̒͠͝n̶͚̟̫̟͚̠͉̭̪̩͇͋͗̈́͂͆͐̽̈́̏̽̅̕͝i̵̢̡̦̮̜̯̥̠̪̼͍̔̔ ̶̧̥̱̰̯̥̝̦̭̖̀͑̔͋e̷̢̢̧̯̰̺͓̲͈̺̜͚̫̣̒ŗ̴̹̠͖̩̭͖͖̳̗̟̲̼͍̟̾̓͑̈̀̔̂̅̿'̵̧̨̗̻͔̬͕̦͔͎̞̺͓͎͖̒͐͐̓̑̎̄̋͝͠u̴̡̳͙̝̻͍͎̺̲͎̱̻͎̠̩̒͐̾̓̅̒̾͋̓̀̕͝͝͝ȏ̴͚̜͖̌͊͗͋͊̈́͗Y̶̵̷̡̢̨̛̛̜̪͓̘͖͔̗͔̲͈̍̈́̔̑̂̐̈́̽͋̂̒̾̉̎́̉̇̓̇̇̍̓̉̿͋̎̉͆̄͊̚̕͜͜d̵̺͍͙̊̂͗̅̑̿̕ę̸̛̟̭̼̻̪̥̻͓̓̉̊̆̾͜͜i̸̛̦̦̠͚̬̔͑̐̓̈́d̸̡̡̩̪̭͚̗̬̬̫̃̂̔̑̈̀̆͊ ̷̧̱̩̫͉̝̳̣̼̫̗̩̑̓́̉̆̓̚͝ų̷̛̪̩͐̃̔̆̋̏̏͗̾̋̃̚͘ò̶͍̰̠̲̲̌͒̀͋̈́̚͘͠Y̴̷̛̤̫̯̩͙̝̤̳̠̞̹̫̠̫̗̪̯͉̐̓͊̈́̒̔̋̊̈́̎̍͗̍̽͑͘̚̕͜͠ṋ̶̟̭̮̣̆̊̔͗̽͛̿̇͘i̴͓͂͛̄̀͗͑͆̇̆à̴̡͖̭̭͇̤͍̻͖̞̯̈̑̚g̶͙̦̽͛̊̀̈́̂͝͠a̴͍̹͎͈͓̜̗̤̗͈͕̰͚͆̈́͒͛̒̑̚ ̵̡̫̣͂̆̈̂̇͊̾͆̋̈́̐̈̚͠,̷̤̯͍̩̳̃̊͆̾̑͐̒͋̽̋d̴̟͚̘̹̠͖͚̙̺̫͓͈̯̠̎͗͑̓̈́̅͊̐͒̾̚͜͝͝͠ę̶̧͖̠͎̲̞̤̣̣̝̱͂͂͜͝͝i̵͙͍̳̮̲̼̜̟̲̱͒̽̈́̿̓d̶͔͚̮̑͌̉̉͋̄̀̐̅̃̏̚͝ ̵̨̢̡̛̘̭̮͕̻̹̝̥̭͔̈͌̈́̎̆͆́͘̕͜͜u̸̞̫̺̰̼̲̲̽̐o̷͖͓̜̺͔͚̠̜̗̝̜͎̙̊͒̄̈́̿͝Y̸̶̨̡͚̗̼͇̭̼͓̬̹͔̼̝̬̬̞̘̜̣̳̌̄̓̒̒͌̀̈́̇̏͠͝͠ͅy̶̛̪̝͉̒̓͌r̶̢̘̘̟̞̈́̈́̔̍̓͑̓̚ͅŗ̸̞̰͎̯̹̲̰͙̲̮̺̰̒̊̔̏̓́̈́̈́̈͋͆͂̂̕͜ͅô̴̳̾͑͒̈́̐̍̓̕͝S̶̛̮̺͓̗̒͊͛͗͗̏̎͠_ **

**_I… Oh, right. The big searcher guy. Ann glanced around, no longer concerned that she couldn’t breathe. A lot of dead people couldn’t breathe._ **

**_The inky darkness held some light. Not a lot, but enough. Like a bunch of lightning bugs floating in the summer sky. Ann smiled slightly at one hovering particularly close to her. It felt familiar, warm, comforting. She wanted to reach out and grab it, pull it close._ **

**_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_** **_̸̡̛̘̖͖͍̩̤̯̬̪͔͕̌̈́̕͜͝ͅ!̸̺͚̙̩̮̄m̸̢̥̜̦͖̯̬̲̝̠̦̤̊̅̓̕o̸̧̲̣̎̂̌̃̆̄̊̓̏̂͊͒̕͘ͅT̷̛̝̱̤̳͚͖̲̯̜̘̓̄̌͂̕ͅ_**

**_Ann frowned again and glanced around. Tom? Who’s Tom? Why did that name sound familiar? How did I die again? Ann asked. Maybe. It was hard to ask questions here._ **

**_Then she felt like she was being pushed, shoved downwards. Ann, probably, cried out in protest. She didn’t like being shoved down. It didn’t feel good. Especially here. It felt like dying all over again._ **

**_!̴͕̔̐̎m̴̢̼̬̻͙͓̣̜̦͈̤͐̑͗̿̽̆͗̓̇͘ȏ̵̡̨͓̣͕̼̤̙͍̤̩̌̀̓̈́̄͗̅̇̆̍̌̚T̴̥̔͒͗͒̿̂ ̵̘̱̮͖͇̯̜̰̯̜̟͓̇͊̉̀t̵̢̛̗͉̲̮̻͚̪̻̤̰̥͗͑̆̓̑̏͠͠ę̵͚͓̘̖̤͚͚͉̹̻̹̪̹̝̃̽͛̕͘g̵̛̟̯̬̅̂͆̋̃̆̌̒͘̚͘r̸̨̥̱͖̊̈o̸̡̱̣̮̝̐̿͐̎̒̓̚͘̚͜͝f̸͓͇̠͈̙̘̼̼̫̺̀̑̓̉̑͐̀͑̊̄̚͘͜͝ ̶̥̇̇̋̉͂̀̉̕̕͝t̶̛͙̩͓͚̖̹͉̖̱̣̾̽͘ͅ'̸̧̱̱̼̃̂̉͆̂̚̕̕͜͝n̷͙̣̉̓̓̔̔͗͐̂͊̏̓̚͝͠ớ̶̲̠̦̳̞͐̎͛̾͘̕̚̕ͅḒ̷̫̯̰̅͆̂͂̎̑_** **_̷̢̰͎̳͙̻̔̐͌́̈́̽n̴̻̜̗͂̌̃̇͑̄̏̈́̐͑́̚͘̚͠n̸̡̻̠̥̱̭̯̭͈̘͈̂͜͜Ä̵̡̢̟͈͕̖̟̹̹̠̜̙̳̱̾̈̈̇̏ ̸̧̻̠̰͍̰͙̺̠͖̤͓͛̌̅̀͜͝,̵̢͍̯̞͎̞͂͂̄͌̓͒̈́̇͜͜ẽ̸̲̼͇͙͍͑̊͊͆̒͠ͅȑ̷̰̬̫͖̹̂̃̏̆̈́́̃͂̊̚͝e̶̛̛͓̝̞̭̦͔̬͌̍̏͂͋̑͋͘̕h̷̨̰͓͔̼̱̟̳͐̓͗͐̃͘ ̸͙͉̻̖̤͙͍̩̪͐̊̀͌͛̑̈́͝ē̸̥̞͇͓̜͇̬̜̞̤̻̫͑̅̅̊̂͛̋͒̇̌̕͜͠b̶̹̤̣͇̜̤̻̯̤̘͑͆͛̚ͅ ̸̣͕̯̙͇̃̉̇̈̓̑͋̎͊͒̀́͠ṫ̷͔̹̙͍͖͔̣̩͕̜̟̦̋̌̑͋̓̋͛͝'̷̝̜̺̈́̉̉n̶̨̢͍̤͎̹͓͎̍̉͆̓̇̊̐̇͗͛̓̊͘͘ḑ̸̗͎͕͉́̾̈̅̊̔̋͋͐l̶̛͓̟̜͕̗̺̠̮̳̲̞͚̣̼̐͗̀͑̾̍͜u̵͎͈̠̫̇̈́̓̈́͝ơ̵̧̨̡̟̩̞̣̯̝̠͔̮͖̜̂̃̈́̇́̚̕ͅḫ̸͈̗̬͙͋̾͐̅̇̓̒s̸͓̹̗̣̺̲̞̭͔̈̃̓̍̓ ̷̤̖̟̱̺͓̯͇͑̊̒̊̓̃̉̓̍̀̚͝͠u̴͕̤̥̮̼̱̗̰̜͔̲̥̔̀͆̏̾̔̅̂̔͘o̸̙̰̟͑͑̈́̑̃̇̒͋̇̚Y̶͇͕͉͖͖̯̙̦̝̞̳̖̒̂̓͗̇̂̚̚͠!̷̨̝͖͙̦̞̏̂̔̈̅̌̂̎t̵͓̊̂ṷ̶̮̖̩͓̳̭̹̘̞̌̐̆̂̌̉̍͂̑̕Õ̷̹͍̦͉ ̷̡͉̙͖̝͈̬̞̝̟̬̘̝̈́̆͜t̸̟̖̔̑ẹ̷̛̛͚͔͕͙̯͕͔͊͊͗͑͒̍̈͠G̸̘̰̳̱̩̻͗̓͐͌͆͗̿̐ ̵͙͓͉̖̤̪͛̎̂͘̕.̶̨̮͎͈̫̖̲̇̂̊̓̇͠ͅ.̶̢͎͙̤̂͜͠.̷̡̹͙̳͖̝͍͐̽̆͘͝ͅt̴̛͍̙̫̼͈͖̣̪̰̤̄͐̄̽̽͒̐̾̽̕͠͠u̶̧̦̫̖̜͎͙̩̫̣̭̿̋̏̔͊͐̈̓͂̄͂̅̚͜͜ͅͅo̶̧̹̱͇̯̹͉̾̍͋͂͌̉̿̈̌̎̂̽͜͝ͅͅ ̴̣͈̩̗̄͋̽̀̽̉̎͗̄̌̚͝͠t̶̢̩̥̮͌͌ȩ̷͓̖̜̗̫̋̇̽͠ͅǴ̶͇̖̞͙̥̰̹̤̹̲͆̚͝!̴͕̔̐̎m̴̢̼̬̻͙͓̣̜̦͈̤͐̑͗̿̽̆͗̓̇͘ȏ̵̡̨͓̣͕̼̤̙͍̤̩̌̀̓̈́̄͗̅̇̆̍̌̚T̴̥̔͒͗͒̿̂ ̵̘̱̮͖͇̯̜̰̯̜̟͓̇͊̉̀t̵̢̛̗͉̲̮̻͚̪̻̤̰̥͗͑̆̓̑̏͠͠ę̵͚͓̘̖̤͚͚͉̹̻̹̪̹̝̃̽͛̕͘g̵̛̟̯̬̅̂͆̋̃̆̌̒͘̚͘r̸̨̥̱͖̊̈o̸̡̱̣̮̝̐̿͐̎̒̓̚͘̚͜͝f̸͓͇̠͈̙̘̼̼̫̺̀̑̓̉̑͐̀͑̊̄̚͘͜͝ ̶̥̇̇̋̉͂̀̉̕̕͝t̶̛͙̩͓͚̖̹͉̖̱̣̾̽͘ͅ'̸̧̱̱̼̃̂̉͆̂̚̕̕͜͝n̷͙̣̉̓̓̔̔͗͐̂͊̏̓̚͝͠ớ̶̲̠̦̳̞͐̎͛̾͘̕̚̕ͅḒ̷̫̯̰̅͆̂͂̎̑_** **_̷̢̰͎̳͙̻̔̐͌́̈́̽n̴̻̜̗͂̌̃̇͑̄̏̈́̐͑́̚͘̚͠n̸̡̻̠̥̱̭̯̭͈̘͈̂͜͜Ä̵̡̢̟͈͕̖̟̹̹̠̜̙̳̱̾̈̈̇̏ ̸̧̻̠̰͍̰͙̺̠͖̤͓͛̌̅̀͜͝,̵̢͍̯̞͎̞͂͂̄͌̓͒̈́̇͜͜ẽ̸̲̼͇͙͍͑̊͊͆̒͠ͅȑ̷̰̬̫͖̹̂̃̏̆̈́́̃͂̊̚͝e̶̛̛͓̝̞̭̦͔̬͌̍̏͂͋̑͋͘̕h̷̨̰͓͔̼̱̟̳͐̓͗͐̃͘ ̸͙͉̻̖̤͙͍̩̪͐̊̀͌͛̑̈́͝ē̸̥̞͇͓̜͇̬̜̞̤̻̫͑̅̅̊̂͛̋͒̇̌̕͜͠b̶̹̤̣͇̜̤̻̯̤̘͑͆͛̚ͅ ̸̣͕̯̙͇̃̉̇̈̓̑͋̎͊͒̀́͠ṫ̷͔̹̙͍͖͔̣̩͕̜̟̦̋̌̑͋̓̋͛͝'̷̝̜̺̈́̉̉n̶̨̢͍̤͎̹͓͎̍̉͆̓̇̊̐̇͗͛̓̊͘͘ḑ̸̗͎͕͉́̾̈̅̊̔̋͋͐l̶̛͓̟̜͕̗̺̠̮̳̲̞͚̣̼̐͗̀͑̾̍͜u̵͎͈̠̫̇̈́̓̈́͝ơ̵̧̨̡̟̩̞̣̯̝̠͔̮͖̜̂̃̈́̇́̚̕ͅḫ̸͈̗̬͙͋̾͐̅̇̓̒s̸͓̹̗̣̺̲̞̭͔̈̃̓̍̓ ̷̤̖̟̱̺͓̯͇͑̊̒̊̓̃̉̓̍̀̚͝͠u̴͕̤̥̮̼̱̗̰̜͔̲̥̔̀͆̏̾̔̅̂̔͘o̸̙̰̟͑͑̈́̑̃̇̒͋̇̚Y̶͇͕͉͖͖̯̙̦̝̞̳̖̒̂̓͗̇̂̚̚͠_** **_!̷̨̝͖͙̦̞̏̂̔̈̅̌̂̎t̵͓̊̂ṷ̶̮̖̩͓̳̭̹̘̞̌̐̆̂̌̉̍͂̑̕Õ̷̹͍̦͉ ̷̡͉̙͖̝͈̬̞̝̟̬̘̝̈́̆͜t̸̟̖̔̑ẹ̷̛̛͚͔͕͙̯͕͔͊͊͗͑͒̍̈͠G̸̘̰̳̱̩̻͗̓͐͌͆͗̿̐ ̵͙͓͉̖̤̪͛̎̂͘̕.̶̨̮͎͈̫̖̲̇̂̊̓̇͠ͅ.̶̢͎͙̤̂͜͠.̷̡̹͙̳͖̝͍͐̽̆͘͝ͅt̴̛͍̙̫̼͈͖̣̪̰̤̄͐̄̽̽͒̐̾̽̕͠͠u̶̧̦̫̖̜͎͙̩̫̣̭̿̋̏̔͊͐̈̓͂̄͂̅̚͜͜ͅͅo̶̧̹̱͇̯̹͉̾̍͋͂͌̉̿̈̌̎̂̽͜͝ͅͅ ̴̣͈̩̗̄͋̽̀̽̉̎͗̄̌̚͝͠t̶̢̩̥̮͌͌ȩ̷͓̖̜̗̫̋̇̽͠ͅǴ̶͇̖̞͙̥̰̹̤̹̲͆̚͝!̴̔̐m̴̢̼̬̻͙͓̣̜̦͈̤͐̑͗̿̽̆͗̓̇͘ȏ̵̡̨͓̣͕̼̤̙͍̤̩̌̀̓̈́̄͗̅̇̆̍̌̚T̴̥̔͒͗͒̿̂ ̵̘̱̮͖͇̯̜̰̯̜̟͓̇͊̉̀t̵̢̛̗͉̲̮̻͚̪̻̤̰̥͗͑̆̓̑̏͠͠ę̵͚͓̘̖̤͚͚͉̹̻̹̪̹̝̃̽͛̕͘g̵̛̟̯̬̅̂͆̋̃̆̌̒͘̚͘r̸̨̥̱͖̊̈o̸̡̱̣̮̝̐̿͐̎̒̓̚͘̚͜͝f̸͓͇̠͈̙̘̼̼̫̺̀̑̓̉̑͐̀͑̊̄̚͘͜͝ ̶̥̇̇̋̉͂̀̉̕̕͝t̶̛͙̩͓͚̖̹͉̖̱̣̾̽͘ͅ'̸̧̱̱̼̃̂̉͆̂̚̕̕͜͝n̷͙̣̉̓̓̔̔͗͐̂͊̏̓̚͝͠ớ̶̲̠̦̳̞͐̎͛̾͘̕̚̕ͅḒ̷̫̯̰̅͆̂͂̎̑_** **_̷̢̰͎̳͙̻̔̐͌́̈́̽n̴̻̜̗͂̌̃̇͑̄̏̈́̐͑́̚͘̚͠n̸̡̻̠̥̱̭̯̭͈̘͈̂͜͜Ä̵̡̢̟͈͕̖̟̹̹̠̜̙̳̱̾̈̈̇̏ ̸̧̻̠̰͍̰͙̺̠͖̤͓͛̌̅̀͜͝,̵̢͍̯̞͎̞͂͂̄͌̓͒̈́̇͜͜ẽ̸̲̼͇͙͍͑̊͊͆̒͠ͅȑ̷̰̬̫͖̹̂̃̏̆̈́́̃͂̊̚͝e̶̛̛͓̝̞̭̦͔̬͌̍̏͂͋̑͋͘̕h̷̨̰͓͔̼̱̟̳͐̓͗͐̃͘ ̸͙͉̻̖̤͙͍̩̪͐̊̀͌͛̑̈́͝ē̸̥̞͇͓̜͇̬̜̞̤̻̫͑̅̅̊̂͛̋͒̇̌̕͜͠b̶̹̤̣͇̜̤̻̯̤̘͑͆͛̚ͅ ̸̣͕̯̙͇̃̉̇̈̓̑͋̎͊͒̀́͠ṫ̷͔̹̙͍͖͔̣̩͕̜̟̦̋̌̑͋̓̋͛͝'̷̝̜̺̈́̉̉n̶̨̢͍̤͎̹͓͎̍̉͆̓̇̊̐̇͗͛̓̊͘͘ḑ̸̗͎͕͉́̾̈̅̊̔̋͋͐l̶̛͓̟̜͕̗̺̠̮̳̲̞͚̣̼̐͗̀͑̾̍͜u̵͎͈̠̫̇̈́̓̈́͝ơ̵̧̨̡̟̩̞̣̯̝̠͔̮͖̜̂̃̈́̇́̚̕ͅḫ̸͈̗̬͙͋̾͐̅̇̓̒s̸͓̹̗̣̺̲̞̭͔̈̃̓̍̓ ̷̤̖̟̱̺͓̯͇͑̊̒̊̓̃̉̓̍̀̚͝͠u̴͕̤̥̮̼̱̗̰̜͔̲̥̔̀͆̏̾̔̅̂̔͘o̸̙̰̟͑͑̈́̑̃̇̒͋̇̚Y̶͇͕͉͖͖̯̙̦̝̞̳̖̒̂̓͗̇̂̚̚͠_** **_!̷̨̝͖͙̦̞̏̂̔̈̅̌̂̎t̵͓̊̂ṷ̶̮̖̩͓̳̭̹̘̞̌̐̆̂̌̉̍͂̑̕Õ̷̹͍̦͉ ̷̡͉̙͖̝͈̬̞̝̟̬̘̝̈́̆͜t̸̟̖̔̑ẹ̷̛̛͚͔͕͙̯͕͔͊͊͗͑͒̍̈͠G̸̘̰̳̱̩̻͗̓͐͌͆͗̿̐ ̵͙͓͉̖̤̪͛̎̂͘̕.̶̨̮͎͈̫̖̲̇̂̊̓̇͠ͅ.̶̢͎͙̤̂͜͠.̷̡̹͙̳͖̝͍͐̽̆͘͝ͅt̴̛͍̙̫̼͈͖̣̪̰̤̄͐̄̽̽͒̐̾̽̕͠͠u̶̧̦̫̖̜͎͙̩̫̣̭̿̋̏̔͊͐̈̓͂̄͂̅̚͜͜ͅͅo̶̧̹̱͇̯̹͉̾̍͋͂͌̉̿̈̌̎̂̽͜͝ͅͅ ̴̣͈̩̗̄͋̽̀̽̉̎͗̄̌̚͝͠t̶̢̩̥̮͌͌ȩ̷͓̖̜̗̫̋̇̽͠ͅǴ̶͇̖̞͙̥̰̹̤̹̲͆̚͝!̴͕̔̐̎m̴̢̼̬̻͙͓̣̜̦͈̤͐̑͗̿̽̆͗̓̇͘ȏ̵̡̨͓̣͕̼̤̙͍̤̩̌̀̓̈́̄͗̅̇̆̍̌̚T̴̥̔͒͗͒̿̂ ̵̘̱̮͖͇̯̜̰̯̜̟͓̇͊̉̀_** ** _t̵̢̛̗͉̲̮̻͚̪̻̤̰̥͗͑̆̓̑̏͠͠ę̵͚͓̘̖̤͚͚͉̹̻̹̪̹̝̃̽͛̕͘g̵̛̟̯̬̅̂͆̋̃̆̌̒͘̚͘r̸̨̥̱͖̊̈o̸̡̱̣̮̝̐̿͐̎̒̓̚͘̚͜͝f̸͓͇̠͈̙̘̼̼̫̺̀̑̓̉̑͐̀͑̊̄̚͘͜͝ ̶̥̇̇̋̉͂̀̉̕̕͝t̶̛͙̩͓͚̖̹͉̖̱̣̾̽͘ͅ'̸̧̱̱̼̃̂̉͆̂̚̕̕͜͝n̷͙̣̉̓̓̔̔͗͐̂͊̏̓̚͝͠ớ̶̲̠̦̳̞͐̎͛̾͘̕̚̕ͅḒ̷̫̯̰̅͆̂͂̎̑_** **_̷̢̰͎̳͙̻̔̐͌́̈́̽n̴̻̜̗͂̌̃̇͑̄̏̈́̐͑́̚͘̚͠n̸̡̻̠̥̱̭̯̭͈̘͈̂͜͜Ä̵̡̢̟͈͕̖̟̹̹̠̜̙̳̱̾̈̈̇̏ ̸̧̻̠̰͍̰͙̺̠͖̤͓͛̌̅̀͜͝,̵̢͍̯̞͎̞͂͂̄͌̓͒̈́̇͜͜ẽ̸̲̼͇͙͍͑̊͊͆̒͠ͅȑ̷̰̬̫͖̹̂̃̏̆̈́́̃͂̊̚͝e̶̛̛͓̝̞̭̦͔̬͌̍̏͂͋̑͋͘̕h̷̨̰͓͔̼̱̟̳͐̓͗͐̃͘ ̸͙͉̻̖̤͙͍̩̪͐̊̀͌͛̑̈́͝ē̸̥̞͇͓̜͇̬̜̞̤̻̫͑̅̅̊̂͛̋͒̇̌̕͜͠b̶̹̤̣͇̜̤̻̯̤̘͑͆͛̚ͅ ̸̣͕̯̙͇̃̉̇̈̓̑͋̎͊͒̀́͠ṫ̷͔̹̙͍͖͔̣̩͕̜̟̦̋̌̑͋̓̋͛͝'̷̝̜̺̈́̉̉n̶̨̢͍̤͎̹͓͎̍̉͆̓̇̊̐̇͗͛̓̊͘͘ḑ̸̗͎͕͉́̾̈̅̊̔̋͋͐l̶̛͓̟̜͕̗̺̠̮̳̲̞͚̣̼̐͗̀͑̾̍͜u̵͎͈̠̫̇̈́̓̈́͝ơ̵̧̨̡̟̩̞̣̯̝̠͔̮͖̜̂̃̈́̇́̚̕ͅḫ̸͈̗̬͙͋̾͐̅̇̓̒s̸͓̹̗̣̺̲̞̭͔̈̃̓̍̓ ̷̤̖̟̱̺͓̯͇͑̊̒̊̓̃̉̓̍̀̚͝͠u̴͕̤̥̮̼̱̗̰̜͔̲̥̔̀͆̏̾̔̅̂̔͘o̸̙̰̟͑͑̈́̑̃̇̒͋̇̚Y̶͇͕͉͖͖̯̙̦̝̞̳̖̒̂̓͗̇̂̚̚͠_** **_!̷̨̝͖͙̦̞̏̂̔̈̅̌̂̎t̵͓̊̂ṷ̶̮̖̩͓̳̭̹̘̞̌̐̆̂̌̉̍͂̑̕Õ̷̹͍̦͉ ̷̡͉̙͖̝͈̬̞̝̟̬̘̝̈́̆͜t̸̟̖̔̑ẹ̷̛̛͚͔͕͙̯͕͔͊͊͗͑͒̍̈͠G̸̘̰̳̱̩̻͗̓͐͌͆͗̿̐ ̵͙͓͉̖̤̪͛̎̂͘̕.̶̨̮͎͈̫̖̲̇̂̊̓̇͠ͅ.̶̢͎͙̤̂͜͠.̷̡̹͙̳͖̝͍͐̽̆͘͝ͅt̴̛͍̙̫̼͈͖̣̪̰̤̄͐̄̽̽͒̐̾̽̕͠͠u̶̧̦̫̖̜͎͙̩̫̣̭̿̋̏̔͊͐̈̓͂̄͂̅̚͜͜ͅͅo̶̧̹̱͇̯̹͉̾̍͋͂͌̉̿̈̌̎̂̽͜͝ͅͅ ̴̣͈̩̗̄͋̽̀̽̉̎͗̄̌̚͝͠t̶̢̩̥̮͌͌ȩ̷͓̖̜̗̫̋̇̽͠ͅǴ̶͇̖̞͙̥̰̹̤̹̲͆̚͝_**

**_Tom!_ **

**_Ann glanced all around, trying to distinguish her friend from somewhere in the inky void. The warm light near her head, the one that felt so much like an old friend, floated near her hand and suddenly her arm was yanked down, down, down until she was facing some of the darkest corners of this abyss._ **

**_With the little light surrounding her, she was able to make out the fading form of a wolf’s head. Tom! Ann tried to shout. She heard her voice so why couldn’t she make a sound? Tom! Can you hear me! Oh, Tom, look up!_ **

**_Ann?_ **

**_The wolf’s head turned up, confused._ **

**_m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝m̶̨̧͕̻̞̹̙͇͇̾͂́̿͊͐́̉̾̕͝͝i̴͇͖̮̱̘̔̋̊̉̈̀́h̷̼̬͓̗̮̖͚̭̜͔͇̰̩̳͗͋͒͋̑̈͒̏͊͘ ̴̛̥̜̻͈̦̠̟̦̦̥̯̩̐̅̈́͋̿͝͝͝ȅ̵̤̺̺̰̠͖͇̗͋̌̇̔̐̈́̓͘͠v̸̯̒͒͘a̶̡͇̹̮̦̖͇̼̦͔͕͍̫̓͑̍͂̂͋̓̾̽͜͝ś̵̪̫̏͒͊̉͗͋͜ ̵̛͙͆͒̎̉̓͐̆̉̚͘̕͝ṅ̸̙̹̙̜͖̗͕͓̅̃́̊̎͝͝a̶̛͓̭̠̪̓͂͑̓̊̾̅̈̐͝͝ć̷̛̤̫̲̫̮̹͕̼͕͇͈̪͇͆̊̒̐̽̊͝͝ ̵̛̛̻͈̭͈͈̣͎͓̐̔̀̎͛͜ǘ̶̩̹͉͕̤̠̰͙̘͌̍̎̇͜͝ȍ̸̙̖̟̝͙̪͍͐͗̓Y̶̻̝͓̘̟̑̏͛̎̂̊̃͛͊̀͜͝_ **

**_Ann wasn’t sure what she was being told, or who was telling her, but something was telling her that she could save Tom. She just had to… had to… had to do something._ **

**_As a child, Ann faintly recalled, going to Coney Island and swimming in the ocean with her little brother and sister. They had always done races in the water, seeing who could outrun the other. Racing against each other and the waves that tried there best to push the children back to shore._ **

**_Ann recalled it always got harder and harder to actually run the further into the ocean they got, the deeper the water became, until it felt as it the water was holding fast to her legs and preventing her from running. Then she would dive in and swim the rest of the way in. Her brother and sister always said that was cheating, but they were just as guilty of doing it._ **

**_That’s what running here felt like. The ink seemed to grab ahold of her legs and hold her tight to one spot. Ann struggled with what little energy she had left (People who are dead simply don’t have as much energy as when they are alive) to actually reach Tom._ **

**_.̸̦̙͇̈́͌̐.̸͔͎̣̥̖͛͐͂͊͗̀̊̑̋͘͜͝͝.̷̱̺̩̓̋̔ư̴̡͇̝̻̙̪̼̪̄̇̿̈́́̂̉̔̉̒̚̚͝o̴̗͙͊͂̿̋͐͗̄̊͑̿̒̚y̸̡̧̢̦̼̝̟͍̤̎̈́͆̉̈͑͜ ̵̹̓̄͑̈́r̶̖̤̮̍̉͘̕͝o̶̟̟̱̻̰̍̅̉̃f̷̪̞̺̳̲̻̊̋̄̊̈̓̄̕̚ ̴̻̮̗̤̺̻̻̦͍̞̠̈è̴̙̼̫̙͚̰͔̼̺̱͚͕̼́̄͐̔r̵͕̥̥͈͎͒͗͝é̸̢̫͕͖̌̉̀̋͑̈͐͆͘̕͝ͅh̷̤͎̱̯͖̩̤͍̋͜ ̴̢̭͚͍̦͚̯̦̙̟̜͇͍̘͆̇̓̚͝ê̶̟̞͉̩̪̺͈͇̩̼͉̜͎̂͋͆̈́̋͑̓͘ṛ̸̨̎̆̓'̷̢̝͉̞̭̺̯͇͇͚̯́̊̾̈̔ͅē̵̛̱̤̰̠̺̗͓̌͌̐̈́̇͐͝W̸̨̡̤̹͈̩̉ͅ ̷̡̡̨͉̻͇̙̙̲̆̾͂̑̋̿͛̓͝.̷̨̼͍̩̞̋̀̒̅͋̽.̵̢̧͕͔̦̥̼̗̜̭̟̑̽̌̑́͑̀̈́͘͘͠͝.̶̙̰̞̳͊̌͗̊̍̅̈́̒̍̿̿͌͑͘n̴͈̝͙̽̍͗̈n̶̢̧̢̛̛̳͍̭̬͔̥̣̾̔̒̽͑͊͆͗̈́̊̒́́A̷̜̿ ̵̛̙̦̜̯̤̔̀̌̿̐̈́̃̽̍̍̇̍̓͠ͅͅ,̷͚̖̗̈g̸̢̩̻̯͊͛̽̈̿͛̽̍̐ͅñ̸͔̼̮͔͗͂̔̈́̈́̐̕i̵̢̤̹͂̏ỏ̴̢̢̲͍̮͓̬̣͎̣͈̓̉̑̐g̸͓̪̪̻͌͘ ̵̛̖̰̠̎̄̕p̵̨̡̧̧̟̤̮͖̠̜͈͗̄͜ẻ̸̩̉̾̉̕e̸̮͚̤͕̻̞̼̣̎͌K̶̝̯͉̞̼̫̗͊͑͝ ̶̳̣̯͈̯̦̮̹̜̀́̉̏͂̾̐̋̈́̕̚.̶̡̡͈͙̮̬͍̺̲̱̇͒̍̈́͂̇͌̚͜͝͝ͅ.̵͙̤̭̤͋͜.̶̡̨͔̰̻̪̈́͆͌͜ŗ̶̣̪̘͇͓̿͐́͑̂̔̆̔̉̏̕͠e̶̠̾̇͒͝͠h̸̨̨̧̨̝̜͚̺̠͉̬̥̼̿̃́̔̃͆̏͋̅̓͜͠t̷͇̤͎̹̯̹́͋͌̅̒̕ͅr̶̛̫͔̥̙̩̥̹̖̳͒̈́̈̔͑̐̇͝u̵̢̲͉͕͈̳̯̙̅̆̒̅̍f̶̧̧͔̱̠̣̫͕̠̠̏͊̍͋̅̚͘͜ͅ ̶̮̣̺́̈́̊͛̈́ę̷̛̤̻̦͖̲͓̮̟̖̭̫̐̊̅̉̓̂̇̈́̎̈́͜͠ͅl̵̡̲̭͖̞͚̜̦̟̩̞̼̇̓͗͑͆̏͗̚͝͝ẗ̵̨̡͇̳̫̦̱̜͔̜̘́͊̓̓t̴̘͙̲̝̜̩̭̲̖̥͆͝i̶̧̬̱̥̖̦̮͇͕̐͒̇̑̾̋̅̅̕͘l̴̢͉̤̝̰̜̬͆̕ ̶̧̝̠̤̟̯̓̓́̒̉ả̷̫̺̯̟̊͌͝ ̶̠̭̺̅̄̋͛t̶̮͔̹̞̭͇̙̳̹̊͐͋̑͑̕͠s̸͚͔̺̞̖̟̻̟͇̩̗̹̟̻͆̔̈́̌̽̈́͂͊͑͗͜͠͝͝ư̸̢̠̖̺͉͕̯̰̰̙̖̂̓̉̉͜J̵̧͉̱͓̄̂̄̆ ̵̧̗̖̈̊̃͆̓͊̊.̵͖͍̟̺̒́̄͝.̷̗͕̺̻̙̰̠̇͛̇́̏̊͊̐̀̾̂̈́̎͑.̷͍͖̙̓̈́̅̍̾̈͊̎͠͝͝g̵̛̦̟̙̫̙̤͎̐̉̿͋̓̔̅͌͋͘̚͝͝ṋ̴͈̟̰͇͙̼̒̑̕i̵̧̡̢̪͙̙̫̳̗̲̱̜̠͚̒̆̔̋͂̐̚͘͝͠o̴̥͕͓̽̍ģ̴̙̥̜̮͓̬̘͌̔̔͆͗̑͘ ̸̨͔͈̟̪̥̪̥̞̙̟͍̳͉̅̓̈́̈́͘p̶̨͎̠͍͇͇̫̩͔͌̃̔̓̾̏ẻ̴͍̪̳͍̲̭͐̍͑͗̓̆̾̉̄̇̊̓̚͠ę̶͉̫̥̗̜̯̣͇͕̲̃̐̃ͅK̶̯͎̣̼̄̃_ **

**_Run, run, keep running… Ann groaned with the effort as she plunged herself deeper and deeper into the inky abyss, farther and farther away from the lights that seemed to speak to her in words she couldn’t hear but still understood. Further down, the wolf looked around. Dazed, confused, how did he get here? Where was here?_ **

**_Cold, wet, dark._ **

**_He was tired… He wanted to sleep…_ **

**_Tom! Hang on! Don’t fall asleep!_ **

**_Who kept saying his name? He could barely hear it but it was faint, almost like a whisper, but slightly louder. The voice sounded familiar…_ **

**_Stay awake, Tom! Stay awake_ **

**_Why did he want to sleep so badly? Where was he? How did he get here?_ **

**_.̷̧̧̯̺̜͉̥͕͉̟̖͌̌̔.̶̛̭̞͂͐̃̽͆̎̊͠.̷̢̯̗̫͖͖̝͔̦̯̳͂̇͒̆̃̓̀̈́̅̈́͝ͅd̷̡̡̖͚̠͓̫̮̖̫͖͖̎̽̒̾ͅȅ̵͖̄̏̋̾̊̊̄̕į̵̨͈̠̞̤̞̰̥̑̑͗̆́̈͘͘ͅͅͅd̶̮̰̥̗͔̖̭̦̝̘̼̮̪̣͛̋̈́̅͛̅̑ ̸̙̠̝̄̒.̸̯̗̬͎̪̹͓̹̟̫͕̿̈͂͜.̶̤̭̺̜̜͔̪̳̋͐͒͂̑͋̊̆͋̉͌͜͜.̵̡̧̛̯̳̲̘̣͎̊̂̉͐̀ṇ̶̣͍͍̙̥̣̦̺̿̇̑͌̈́ň̶̨̡̛̜̬̲̣̲͎̗̙͓̳͉͍̒̈̇͗̎͜͠A̷̜̪͈͕̜͌͐͗̾͋͂͗͆͗ ̷̥̟̟͎̞̠̮̪͉͍͈̎̆̋̇͒͒̾̈́̑́̚̚.̷̺̪͔̱̻̱̗̬̹͎̉̍̉͌̎.̴̧̨̨̧̝̰̥͓͚͈͕͎͋̈͒͒͜͝.̶̖̘̗̝͉̯͎͓̥̑͜d̷̳͇̠͚̪̝̬͇̺͚͍͙̮̝̣͌͑̂͂̅̏̈́̐̈͒̋͘͝n̵̡̹̥̞̤̥̗̳͉̺̬̘͈̖͂̐͋̌̄́͗̽̏͘ạ̷̧̢̡̤̞͈͈͎͙̮̙̮̋̑͒̀̈̅̆̀̐̈́ ̷̢̛̬̙̩̳̻͓̰̼̝̼͙̍͌͒͆̄̌̅̔̒̈́̆̕̚͜͝.̵̢̤̬͍͉̊͘.̶̙̜͍͇͖̙͈̏.̴̢̹̱̦̗̩͇̤͎͖͙́̈́̾̈́͑̍͜ų̸̛͔͙͎͇̞̙̼̯̘̮̮̉̈́̋͗̓̿͂̆͝ȍ̵̧̙͈͎̘̠͙͓̝̹̉͒̈̀͆̇́͘̕Y̶̜͝_ **

**_The other voices were even quitter, but he could still hear them. They sounded familiar, a lot of them did. Where was he?_ **

**_Tom glanced around, he felt sluggish. Something just grabbed a hold of his limbs and wrapped itself around them. Rest, it told him. Close your eyes and rest. It’s dark all around, after all… Tom’s eyes closed only for a minute, but then he heard a scream.\_ **

**_Tom! I’m almost there!_ **

**_He shivered. It was so cold here, why was it so cold? Cold and dark, he didn’t like it. It reminded him to much of the ink machine. Of the… ink machine…_ **

**_He was in the ink!_ **

**_Tom suddenly panicked, glancing around. Was he dead? What happened? Where was he? Where was Allison? Where was Lacie? Where was Ann?_ **

**_Tom!_ **

**_Ann?_ **

**_Tom!_ **

**_Ann!_ **

**_There was warmth above his head, something was glowing. He looked up and saw Ann’s form reaching out a hand towards him. It took some effort but he finally grabbed it. He heard a small groan of effort and then he was weightless._ **

**_Tom panicked again, flailed about. Ann reached out to steady him again. I’m here, he heard her say among the other voices, you’re not alone._ **

**_What do we do?_ **

**_Ann glanced past him, down further into the abyss. It was cold and dark and inky. It scared her. She glanced up. It was warm and bright and welcoming up there. Don’t go to the light, a softer voice, a colder voice, a crueler voice, told her. Don’t go to the light._ **

**_e̷̻̞̰̎͝ͅf̵̣̰͍̼͔͕͓̯̞̥̖͚̼́̀̓͗̽̔̀͂͋̈́̽̒̓͝͝a̸̩̱͋̿̃̒͋͑̓̈͗͒͗͑͊͘ṣ̴̢̬͚̲̼̠͍͕̫̯͉̼̿̌̽͜ ̸̙̻͚̹̙̪̗̽̽́̆̅̅͋̆͝e̵̥̹̻͋̿͐̈͂̒͊̽̆̕͝b̶̡̡̛͚͚̩̪̩̼̝̻͙̳͉̈̋̂̅̓̌͑̍͝͝͝ͅ ̸̨̛̘̼̲͈̩͉̳͉̻̭̖̰͖̳͝l̶̢͎̺͚̞̩̈́͂̔̓̇̿̒̏̐͑̏̀̕̕͝l̶̹͇͎̱̀̔͝'̴̤̊́͊̏̅͑̉̈̃͜͝ȕ̴̳͓͆̇̇̑̋̓ö̵̡͉͔͚̘́̄̆̋͐̋̅Y̶̠̲̼͎̯̞̐͂͛̓͑̈̌̃̊̆̚ ̵̛̫͇̥͖̉̋̈́̀̆͂̍̈́̎͛.̸̧͖͙̫̙̫̎̿̅̑̊̓͌͜͝.̷̨̣̭̳̙͔̪̤͕͉͈̳̰̊͂͛͗̿́̿̿̈́̊̔͘͘͜͠ͅ.̵̺̮̤̬͚̠̟̙̟͇̫͐̈́̋̒̆̀̏͆͒̃̈̍̚ť̵̖̫͙̖́͑ḩ̵̡̛̖̦̭̹̹̤̼͂͂͜ͅg̵̨͙̰͔͙̝̼̱̭̝̑̌͛̽́̔̔̎̆͋̐͐͆͝i̵̫̳̫̺̐̀͜l̶̛̠̬̳͕̜͂̽̈͆̌̃̊͆͝ ̷̛̦̺̜͔̥͇̯͓̖͉͎̙̺̪̎͋̈̑̂̕͝ͅę̸̞̪̰͓͎̲̳̲̗̓͗̃̒͆͗̅̑̓̀̕͜͝h̴̡̟͎͖̘͚̹͓̜͈̘̤̤̦̑̏̽̉͂t̷̛̙̘̠͚͐̓̽͆͆̊̇̋͝ ̷̛͍͛͐̏̌̈͑̈́̃̽́͝ȯ̶̧̢͙̙̲͇̻̭̯̟̘̺͇̮͌̿̋͘t̸̨͚̙̘̬̠̺̪̭͓͘ ̶̣͗̈͌͆͗̍̏̎̈́̉̚͠ő̶͉̠̪̲̙͎̪̩̐̒̆̒͂̆̀̑͘͘Ģ̵̨̢̭̪͈͔͔̺̮͕̦̈̃̔͊ͅͅͅ ̵̲͔̺̩͎͉͆̅͐͐̃.̵͇̄́̋̉̓.̶̢̨̧̳͍̞̻̲̫̹̥̻̈́̓̕͝ͅͅ.̴̲̯̹͖͎̍̌̑m̷͖͎̝͎̠͑̔̒̆͝ͅi̸͖̔̏͐̓͋̀̓̽͐̏̿̄̕͝ḩ̷̡͚̮̙̠͓̠͇͗̌ ̸̡̭̲̪͕͐͐̾̉̏̎̋̐̏̕̕̚͜o̶͇͎̦̭̤͖̦̟̎̄̃̈́͊͐̚͝ṯ̸̨͉̞̬̍̉̊̒̽͂͗̆̄͂͝ͅ ̸̢͕͐̅̌̽̎͐̌̾͆͝n̵̢͖̜͔͚͓̯͇̲̪͔̱̹̔̈́̽̋͜ͅe̶̲̲̺̩͓͕͔͕̭̜͌̓̑̿̓̂̀̌̍͋̓̐̔̕t̵̡͈͈̼͉̪̘͉͔̲͛̂̓̔̈́̑̈̊̓̍͋̏̕s̵̖̭̹̭̱̹̼̥̙̠̹̰̊͊̅̾̌͗͝į̸̢̧͔̣̟̪͓͚̄͐̈̎̄̅l̷̮̠̳̰̒͋ ̷̡̺̬̺̝̃̓ẗ̵̛̤͇̘́̓̐̾̆͌͌̉͐̽͠'̴̨̜̩͎͔̻̞̠̲͍̼̲̓̀͐̋n̸̢̢̙̘̭͎̜̺͎̻̖̩̰̂͗͋̉̉̅̽̆͠o̶̬͂͛͑͋̃̓̃̅͝͠D̶̻͓͕̻̽̊͜e̷̻̞̰̎͝ͅf̵̣̰͍̼͔͕͓̯̞̥̖͚̼́̀̓͗̽̔̀͂͋̈́̽̒̓͝͝a̸̩̱͋̿̃̒͋͑̓̈͗͒͗͑͊͘ṣ̴̢̬͚̲̼̠͍͕̫̯͉̼̿̌̽͜ ̸̙̻͚̹̙̪̗̽̽́̆̅̅͋̆͝e̵̥̹̻͋̿͐̈͂̒͊̽̆̕͝b̶̡̡̛͚͚̩̪̩̼̝̻͙̳͉̈̋̂̅̓̌͑̍͝͝͝ͅ ̸̨̛̘̼̲͈̩͉̳͉̻̭̖̰͖̳͝l̶̢͎̺͚̞̩̈́͂̔̓̇̿̒̏̐͑̏̀̕̕͝l̶̹͇͎̱̀̔͝'̴̤̊́͊̏̅͑̉̈̃͜͝ȕ̴̳͓͆̇̇̑̋̓ö̵̡͉͔͚̘́̄̆̋͐̋̅Y̶̠̲̼͎̯̞̐͂͛̓͑̈̌̃̊̆̚ ̵̛̫͇̥͖̉̋̈́̀̆͂̍̈́̎͛.̸̧͖͙̫̙̫̎̿̅̑̊̓͌͜͝.̷̨̣̭̳̙͔̪̤͕͉͈̳̰̊͂͛͗̿́̿̿̈́̊̔͘͘͜͠ͅ.̵̺̮̤̬͚̠̟̙̟͇̫͐̈́̋̒̆̀̏͆͒̃̈̍̚ť̵̖̫͙̖́͑ḩ̵̡̛̖̦̭̹̹̤̼͂͂͜ͅg̵̨͙̰͔͙̝̼̱̭̝̑̌͛̽́̔̔̎̆͋̐͐͆͝i̵̫̳̫̺̐̀͜l̶̛̠̬̳͕̜͂̽̈͆̌̃̊͆͝ ̷̛̦̺̜͔̥͇̯͓̖͉͎̙̺̪̎͋̈̑̂̕͝ͅę̸̞̪̰͓͎̲̳̲̗̓͗̃̒͆͗̅̑̓̀̕͜͝h̴̡̟͎͖̘͚̹͓̜͈̘̤̤̦̑̏̽̉͂t̷̛̙̘̠͚͐̓̽͆͆̊̇̋͝ ̷̛͍͛͐̏̌̈͑̈́̃̽́͝ȯ̶̧̢͙̙̲͇̻̭̯̟̘̺͇̮͌̿̋͘t̸̨͚̙̘̬̠̺̪̭͓͘ ̶̣͗̈͌͆͗̍̏̎̈́̉̚͠ő̶͉̠̪̲̙͎̪̩̐̒̆̒͂̆̀̑͘͘Ģ̵̨̢̭̪͈͔͔̺̮͕̦̈̃̔͊ͅͅͅ ̵̲͔̺̩͎͉͆̅͐͐̃.̵͇̄́̋̉̓.̶̢̨̧̳͍̞̻̲̫̹̥̻̈́̓̕͝ͅͅ.̴̲̯̹͖͎̍̌̑m̷͖͎̝͎̠͑̔̒̆͝ͅi̸͖̔̏͐̓͋̀̓̽͐̏̿̄̕͝ḩ̷̡͚̮̙̠͓̠͇͗̌ ̸̡̭̲̪͕͐͐̾̉̏̎̋̐̏̕̕̚͜o̶͇͎̦̭̤͖̦̟̎̄̃̈́͊͐̚͝ṯ̸̨͉̞̬̍̉̊̒̽͂͗̆̄͂͝ͅ ̸̢͕͐̅̌̽̎͐̌̾͆͝n̵̢͖̜͔͚͓̯͇̲̪͔̱̹̔̈́̽̋͜ͅe̶̲̲̺̩͓͕͔͕̭̜͌̓̑̿̓̂̀̌̍͋̓̐̔̕t̵̡͈͈̼͉̪̘͉͔̲͛̂̓̔̈́̑̈̊̓̍͋̏̕s̵̖̭̹̭̱̹̼̥̙̠̹̰̊͊̅̾̌͗͝į̸̢̧͔̣̟̪͓͚̄͐̈̎̄̅l̷̮̠̳̰̒͋ ̷̡̺̬̺̝̃̓ẗ̵̛̤͇̘́̓̐̾̆͌͌̉͐̽͠'̴̨̜̩͎͔̻̞̠̲͍̼̲̓̀͐̋n̸̢̢̙̘̭͎̜̺͎̻̖̩̰̂͗͋̉̉̅̽̆͠o̶̬͂͛͑͋̃̓̃̅͝͠D̶̻͓͕̻̽̊͜e̷̻̞̰̎͝ͅf̵̣̰͍̼͔͕͓̯̞̥̖͚̼́̀̓͗̽̔̀͂͋̈́̽̒̓͝͝a̸̩̱͋̿̃̒͋͑̓̈͗͒͗͑͊͘ṣ̴̢̬͚̲̼̠͍͕̫̯͉̼̿̌̽͜ ̸̙̻͚̹̙̪̗̽̽́̆̅̅͋̆͝e̵̥̹̻͋̿͐̈͂̒͊̽̆̕͝b̶̡̡̛͚͚̩̪̩̼̝̻͙̳͉̈̋̂̅̓̌͑̍͝͝͝ͅ ̸̨̛̘̼̲͈̩͉̳͉̻̭̖̰͖̳͝l̶̢͎̺͚̞̩̈́͂̔̓̇̿̒̏̐͑̏̀̕̕͝l̶̹͇͎̱̀̔͝'̴̤̊́͊̏̅͑̉̈̃͜͝ȕ̴̳͓͆̇̇̑̋̓ö̵̡͉͔͚̘́̄̆̋͐̋̅Y̶̠̲̼͎̯̞̐͂͛̓͑̈̌̃̊̆̚ ̵̛̫͇̥͖̉̋̈́̀̆͂̍̈́̎͛.̸̧͖͙̫̙̫̎̿̅̑̊̓͌͜͝.̷̨̣̭̳̙͔̪̤͕͉͈̳̰̊͂͛͗̿́̿̿̈́̊̔͘͘͜͠ͅ.̵̺̮̤̬͚̠̟̙̟͇̫͐̈́̋̒̆̀̏͆͒̃̈̍̚ť̵̖̫͙̖́͑ḩ̵̡̛̖̦̭̹̹̤̼͂͂͜ͅg̵̨͙̰͔͙̝̼̱̭̝̑̌͛̽́̔̔̎̆͋̐͐͆͝i̵̫̳̫̺̐̀͜l̶̛̠̬̳͕̜͂̽̈͆̌̃̊͆͝ ̷̛̦̺̜͔̥͇̯͓̖͉͎̙̺̪̎͋̈̑̂̕͝ͅę̸̞̪̰͓͎̲̳̲̗̓͗̃̒͆͗̅̑̓̀̕͜͝h̴̡̟͎͖̘͚̹͓̜͈̘̤̤̦̑̏̽̉͂t̷̛̙̘̠͚͐̓̽͆͆̊̇̋͝ ̷̛͍͛͐̏̌̈͑̈́̃̽́͝ȯ̶̧̢͙̙̲͇̻̭̯̟̘̺͇̮͌̿̋͘t̸̨͚̙̘̬̠̺̪̭͓͘ ̶̣͗̈͌͆͗̍̏̎̈́̉̚͠ő̶͉̠̪̲̙͎̪̩̐̒̆̒͂̆̀̑͘͘Ģ̵̨̢̭̪͈͔͔̺̮͕̦̈̃̔͊ͅͅͅ ̵̲͔̺̩͎͉͆̅͐͐̃.̵͇̄́̋̉̓.̶̢̨̧̳͍̞̻̲̫̹̥̻̈́̓̕͝ͅͅ.̴̲̯̹͖͎̍̌̑m̷͖͎̝͎̠͑̔̒̆͝ͅi̸͖̔̏͐̓͋̀̓̽͐̏̿̄̕͝ḩ̷̡͚̮̙̠͓̠͇͗̌ ̸̡̭̲̪͕͐͐̾̉̏̎̋̐̏̕̕̚͜o̶͇͎̦̭̤͖̦̟̎̄̃̈́͊͐̚͝ṯ̸̨͉̞̬̍̉̊̒̽͂͗̆̄͂͝ͅ ̸̢͕͐̅̌̽̎͐̌̾͆͝n̵̢͖̜͔͚͓̯͇̲̪͔̱̹̔̈́̽̋͜ͅe̶̲̲̺̩͓͕͔͕̭̜͌̓̑̿̓̂̀̌̍͋̓̐̔̕t̵̡͈͈̼͉̪̘͉͔̲͛̂̓̔̈́̑̈̊̓̍͋̏̕s̵̖̭̹̭̱̹̼̥̙̠̹̰̊͊̅̾̌͗͝į̸̢̧͔̣̟̪͓͚̄͐̈̎̄̅l̷̮̠̳̰̒͋ ̷̡̺̬̺̝̃̓ẗ̵̛̤͇̘́̓̐̾̆͌͌̉͐̽͠'̴̨̜̩͎͔̻̞̠̲͍̼̲̓̀͐̋n̸̢̢̙̘̭͎̜̺͎̻̖̩̰̂͗͋̉̉̅̽̆͠o̶̬͂͛͑͋̃̓̃̅͝͠D̶̻͓͕̻̽̊͜_ **

**_T_ ** **_he other voices in this long, inky well chanted. The lights seemed to beckon her. She grabbed Tom’s arm—the good one, not the robot one—and pointed up. He nodded once and the two swam, no, climbed up._ **

**_The higher they went, the brighter it got. The light shined all around them. It hurt there eyes, it was beautiful to look at, they couldn’t stand another second to look at it, it was nice._ **

**_k̸̨̨̢͇̯͔̭͚͔͇̰͉͎͕̘̉̿̓̇̄͒o̷̜͈̎̿ ̸̨̤͓̙̏̆̈̏̆̾̃̂͗̎̒͘ḙ̶̛̛̪͔̻̤̱͔̬̰͓̳̓̍̓͘͘b̸̡̡̢̜̝̹̫̥̟͔̺̊̔̇̽̇̏̿͗̎͋̕͝ ̷̡͔͈͕̼̼͚̳̿͜l̴͈̙̗̬̰̙̗͔̣͒̍̽̓́̂͑̔̇̿̾͝ĺ̶̡̦̪͍̪̦̭̗̜̼̰̅͂'̵̥̗̼͖͈̝̯̥̣̯͇̗̤̱̈̔̾̎͛̒t̶̢̬̫̤̞͇͐̒͆̓͛͜Ḯ̵͚̖̹͕͓̒̇ ̸̝̐̅̓̌̄̃̆͒̅̆̉͝.̸̧͓̦̹̝̹̯̗̿̐͊͆̃̅̾.̵͉̹̘̼̭̰̣̤͐̉̉̈̉̑̈́̎͛̐̓̈͌͂͋.̶͙̭̞̳̟͓̼̬̝̠͐̅͛͘ẗ̴̡̫̦̞̗̟̰̼̥̀͜ͅh̷̛̛̞̤͉͔̣̘̘̹̘̱̿̽͗̎̏̈́͑̉̅́͠ģ̷̧̫̩̥̙̘͓͓̺̻̮̯͚̈̐̃i̸̗͇̤̱͈̻͙̰̥̤̠̫̰͇̹̿̆̂̍̀͘͝l̸̛̛̩͖͙͖͕̙̥̥̠̯̤̄̍̔̓̿͗́̈́̉̕͘͘͜ ̷̡̺̪̠̳̩́͗̕͝ͅë̴̢̧̨̗̬̼̼́̈́̔h̵̜͕̦̬̭̹̺̱̯̥͖́̀̃̆̅͛̔̓̓͋̚͝t̶̨̲̰̳͖͐̂͗͐̍̍̂̔͂̔̽͆͆̚ ̴̹̼̥͔̪̗̎͌̚̕ǫ̷̡̛͙̙̯͎̼̬͉̬̙͕̜̲͒͐̒̾͋͘ṫ̶̢̧͖̙̰͙̹̹͔̘̦̳̘̭͌͒̕͝͝ ̵̨̨̢̥̱̪̈́̍͐͛͊ö̸̡̢͖͔͖̯̜̥̹̳̯́̍̊̇̓͘͜G̶̡̭̦̼̞̪͎̗͑̓̓͊̎̐͝ͅ ̴̡̧̙̣̹̘̐͂̐͊̅̈̎̓̄̊.̵̨̩̙̦͙͚̠̮̣̯̭̖͌͐͊͛̒͒̔̆͆̄̕.̷̟͇̼̦͕͆́̉̓̋ͅ.̵̢͓̝͖̦̠̝̩̘̞̑͊̔̔͌͗͒͗̎̅͘͜ͅġ̶̢̡̳̭̳͚̗̬̰̮̳̝̟͚̖͐n̵̢̧̡̼̣͓̯͔̲̓͜͝ͅi̶̞̖̞͇̯̾͛̑̀͝o̵̡̯̲̣̳͓͎̠̒̍͒͑̐͐̋̑̓̎̓̕͠͠ĝ̵͈̮̘͕̜̭̪̋̈́̈̏͒̌͘͝͠ ̶̘̫̙̺̳͚̖͕̪̗̖̟͆̌̓̽̄̐́̋̅̚͝͠ͅͅp̷̨̢̻̝̞̥̳̝̱̼̗̈́̾̽̒͗̾̑̌̒̑͘̕͜͝ẹ̸̪̝̣͓͇̩͚̥̟̙͕̳̄̈́̈͒̋̋̇̍̀͒̚͝e̷̼͐̅̊̒̎̔́͋̔͑̕͘͘K̴̡̩̮̥̙͉̤̺͆͒̏͆̋̈́̉̊͌̚k̸̨̨̢͇̯͔̭͚͔͇̰͉͎͕̘̉̿̓̇̄͒o̷̜͈̎̿ ̸̨̤͓̙̏̆̈̏̆̾̃̂͗̎̒͘ḙ̶̛̛̪͔̻̤̱͔̬̰͓̳̓̍̓͘͘b̸̡̡̢̜̝̹̫̥̟͔̺̊̔̇̽̇̏̿͗̎͋̕͝ ̷̡͔͈͕̼̼͚̳̿͜l̴͈̙̗̬̰̙̗͔̣͒̍̽̓́̂͑̔̇̿̾͝ĺ̶̡̦̪͍̪̦̭̗̜̼̰̅͂'̵̥̗̼͖͈̝̯̥̣̯͇̗̤̱̈̔̾̎͛̒t̶̢̬̫̤̞͇͐̒͆̓͛͜Ḯ̵͚̖̹͕͓̒̇ ̸̝̐̅̓̌̄̃̆͒̅̆̉͝.̸̧͓̦̹̝̹̯̗̿̐͊͆̃̅̾.̵͉̹̘̼̭̰̣̤͐̉̉̈̉̑̈́̎͛̐̓̈͌͂͋.̶͙̭̞̳̟͓̼̬̝̠͐̅͛͘ẗ̴̡̫̦̞̗̟̰̼̥̀͜ͅh̷̛̛̞̤͉͔̣̘̘̹̘̱̿̽͗̎̏̈́͑̉̅́͠ģ̷̧̫̩̥̙̘͓͓̺̻̮̯͚̈̐̃i̸̗͇̤̱͈̻͙̰̥̤̠̫̰͇̹̿̆̂̍̀͘͝l̸̛̛̩͖͙͖͕̙̥̥̠̯̤̄̍̔̓̿͗́̈́̉̕͘͘͜ ̷̡̺̪̠̳̩́͗̕͝ͅë̴̢̧̨̗̬̼̼́̈́̔h̵̜͕̦̬̭̹̺̱̯̥͖́̀̃̆̅͛̔̓̓͋̚͝t̶̨̲̰̳͖͐̂͗͐̍̍̂̔͂̔̽͆͆̚ ̴̹̼̥͔̪̗̎͌̚̕ǫ̷̡̛͙̙̯͎̼̬͉̬̙͕̜̲͒͐̒̾͋͘ṫ̶̢̧͖̙̰͙̹̹͔̘̦̳̘̭͌͒̕͝͝ ̵̨̨̢̥̱̪̈́̍͐͛͊ö̸̡̢͖͔͖̯̜̥̹̳̯́̍̊̇̓͘͜G̶̡̭̦̼̞̪͎̗͑̓̓͊̎̐͝ͅ ̴̡̧̙̣̹̘̐͂̐͊̅̈̎̓̄̊.̵̨̩̙̦͙͚̠̮̣̯̭̖͌͐͊͛̒͒̔̆͆̄̕.̷̟͇̼̦͕͆́̉̓̋ͅ.̵̢͓̝͖̦̠̝̩̘̞̑͊̔̔͌͗͒͗̎̅͘͜ͅġ̶̢̡̳̭̳͚̗̬̰̮̳̝̟͚̖͐n̵̢̧̡̼̣͓̯͔̲̓͜͝ͅi̶̞̖̞͇̯̾͛̑̀͝o̵̡̯̲̣̳͓͎̠̒̍͒͑̐͐̋̑̓̎̓̕͠͠ĝ̵͈̮̘͕̜̭̪̋̈́̈̏͒̌͘͝͠ ̶̘̫̙̺̳͚̖͕̪̗̖̟͆̌̓̽̄̐́̋̅̚͝͠ͅͅp̷̨̢̻̝̞̥̳̝̱̼̗̈́̾̽̒͗̾̑̌̒̑͘̕͜͝ẹ̸̪̝̣͓͇̩͚̥̟̙͕̳̄̈́̈͒̋̋̇̍̀͒̚͝e̷̼͐̅̊̒̎̔́͋̔͑̕͘͘K̴̡̩̮̥̙͉̤̺͆͒̏͆̋̈́̉̊͌̚k̸̨̨̢͇̯͔̭͚͔͇̰͉͎͕̘̉̿̓̇̄͒o̷̜͈̎̿ ̸̨̤͓̙̏̆̈̏̆̾̃̂͗̎̒͘ḙ̶̛̛̪͔̻̤̱͔̬̰͓̳̓̍̓͘͘b̸̡̡̢̜̝̹̫̥̟͔̺̊̔̇̽̇̏̿͗̎͋̕͝ ̷̡͔͈͕̼̼͚̳̿͜l̴͈̙̗̬̰̙̗͔̣͒̍̽̓́̂͑̔̇̿̾͝ĺ̶̡̦̪͍̪̦̭̗̜̼̰̅͂'̵̥̗̼͖͈̝̯̥̣̯͇̗̤̱̈̔̾̎͛̒t̶̢̬̫̤̞͇͐̒͆̓͛͜Ḯ̵͚̖̹͕͓̒̇ ̸̝̐̅̓̌̄̃̆͒̅̆̉͝.̸̧͓̦̹̝̹̯̗̿̐͊͆̃̅̾.̵͉̹̘̼̭̰̣̤͐̉̉̈̉̑̈́̎͛̐̓̈͌͂͋.̶͙̭̞̳̟͓̼̬̝̠͐̅͛͘ẗ̴̡̫̦̞̗̟̰̼̥̀͜ͅh̷̛̛̞̤͉͔̣̘̘̹̘̱̿̽͗̎̏̈́͑̉̅́͠ģ̷̧̫̩̥̙̘͓͓̺̻̮̯͚̈̐̃i̸̗͇̤̱͈̻͙̰̥̤̠̫̰͇̹̿̆̂̍̀͘͝l̸̛̛̩͖͙͖͕̙̥̥̠̯̤̄̍̔̓̿͗́̈́̉̕͘͘͜ ̷̡̺̪̠̳̩́͗̕͝ͅë̴̢̧̨̗̬̼̼́̈́̔h̵̜͕̦̬̭̹̺̱̯̥͖́̀̃̆̅͛̔̓̓͋̚͝t̶̨̲̰̳͖͐̂͗͐̍̍̂̔͂̔̽͆͆̚ ̴̹̼̥͔̪̗̎͌̚̕ǫ̷̡̛͙̙̯͎̼̬͉̬̙͕̜̲͒͐̒̾͋͘ṫ̶̢̧͖̙̰͙̹̹͔̘̦̳̘̭͌͒̕͝͝ ̵̨̨̢̥̱̪̈́̍͐͛͊ö̸̡̢͖͔͖̯̜̥̹̳̯́̍̊̇̓͘͜G̶̡̭̦̼̞̪͎̗͑̓̓͊̎̐͝ͅ ̴̡̧̙̣̹̘̐͂̐͊̅̈̎̓̄̊.̵̨̩̙̦͙͚̠̮̣̯̭̖͌͐͊͛̒͒̔̆͆̄̕.̷̟͇̼̦͕͆́̉̓̋ͅ.̵̢͓̝͖̦̠̝̩̘̞̑͊̔̔͌͗͒͗̎̅͘͜ͅġ̶̢̡̳̭̳͚̗̬̰̮̳̝̟͚̖͐n̵̢̧̡̼̣͓̯͔̲̓͜͝ͅi̶̞̖̞͇̯̾͛̑̀͝o̵̡̯̲̣̳͓͎̠̒̍͒͑̐͐̋̑̓̎̓̕͠͠ĝ̵͈̮̘͕̜̭̪̋̈́̈̏͒̌͘͝͠ ̶̘̫̙̺̳͚̖͕̪̗̖̟͆̌̓̽̄̐́̋̅̚͝͠ͅͅp̷̨̢̻̝̞̥̳̝̱̼̗̈́̾̽̒͗̾̑̌̒̑͘̕͜͝ẹ̸̪̝̣͓͇̩͚̥̟̙͕̳̄̈́̈͒̋̋̇̍̀͒̚͝e̷̼͐̅̊̒̎̔́͋̔͑̕͘͘K̴̡̩̮̥̙͉̤̺͆͒̏͆̋̈́̉̊͌̚k̸̨̨̢͇̯͔̭͚͔͇̰͉͎͕̘̉̿̓̇̄͒o̷̜͈̎̿ ̸̨̤͓̙̏̆̈̏̆̾̃̂͗̎̒͘ḙ̶̛̛̪͔̻̤̱͔̬̰͓̳̓̍̓͘͘b̸̡̡̢̜̝̹̫̥̟͔̺̊̔̇̽̇̏̿͗̎͋̕͝ ̷̡͔͈͕̼̼͚̳̿͜l̴͈̙̗̬̰̙̗͔̣͒̍̽̓́̂͑̔̇̿̾͝ĺ̶̡̦̪͍̪̦̭̗̜̼̰̅͂'̵̥̗̼͖͈̝̯̥̣̯͇̗̤̱̈̔̾̎͛̒t̶̢̬̫̤̞͇͐̒͆̓͛͜Ḯ̵͚̖̹͕͓̒̇ ̸̝̐̅̓̌̄̃̆͒̅̆̉͝.̸̧͓̦̹̝̹̯̗̿̐͊͆̃̅̾.̵͉̹̘̼̭̰̣̤͐̉̉̈̉̑̈́̎͛̐̓̈͌͂͋.̶͙̭̞̳̟͓̼̬̝̠͐̅͛͘ẗ̴̡̫̦̞̗̟̰̼̥̀͜ͅh̷̛̛̞̤͉͔̣̘̘̹̘̱̿̽͗̎̏̈́͑̉̅́͠ģ̷̧̫̩̥̙̘͓͓̺̻̮̯͚̈̐̃i̸̗͇̤̱͈̻͙̰̥̤̠̫̰͇̹̿̆̂̍̀͘͝l̸̛̛̩͖͙͖͕̙̥̥̠̯̤̄̍̔̓̿͗́̈́̉̕͘͘͜ ̷̡̺̪̠̳̩́͗̕͝ͅë̴̢̧̨̗̬̼̼́̈́̔h̵̜͕̦̬̭̹̺̱̯̥͖́̀̃̆̅͛̔̓̓͋̚͝t̶̨̲̰̳͖͐̂͗͐̍̍̂̔͂̔̽͆͆̚ ̴̹̼̥͔̪̗̎͌̚̕ǫ̷̡̛͙̙̯͎̼̬͉̬̙͕̜̲͒͐̒̾͋͘ṫ̶̢̧͖̙̰͙̹̹͔̘̦̳̘̭͌͒̕͝͝ ̵̨̨̢̥̱̪̈́̍͐͛͊ö̸̡̢͖͔͖̯̜̥̹̳̯́̍̊̇̓͘͜G̶̡̭̦̼̞̪͎̗͑̓̓͊̎̐͝ͅ ̴̡̧̙̣̹̘̐͂̐͊̅̈̎̓̄̊.̵̨̩̙̦͙͚̠̮̣̯̭̖͌͐͊͛̒͒̔̆͆̄̕.̷̟͇̼̦͕͆́̉̓̋ͅ.̵̢͓̝͖̦̠̝̩̘̞̑͊̔̔͌͗͒͗̎̅͘͜ͅġ̶̢̡̳̭̳͚̗̬̰̮̳̝̟͚̖͐n̵̢̧̡̼̣͓̯͔̲̓͜͝ͅi̶̞̖̞͇̯̾͛̑̀͝o̵̡̯̲̣̳͓͎̠̒̍͒͑̐͐̋̑̓̎̓̕͠͠ĝ̵͈̮̘͕̜̭̪̋̈́̈̏͒̌͘͝͠ ̶̘̫̙̺̳͚̖͕̪̗̖̟͆̌̓̽̄̐́̋̅̚͝͠ͅͅp̷̨̢̻̝̞̥̳̝̱̼̗̈́̾̽̒͗̾̑̌̒̑͘̕͜͝ẹ̸̪̝̣͓͇̩͚̥̟̙͕̳̄̈́̈͒̋̋̇̍̀͒̚͝e̷̼͐̅̊̒̎̔́͋̔͑̕͘͘K̴̡̩̮̥̙͉̤̺͆͒̏͆̋̈́̉̊͌̚k̸̨̨̢͇̯͔̭͚͔͇̰͉͎͕̘̉̿̓̇̄͒o̷̜͈̎̿ ̸̨̤͓̙̏̆̈̏̆̾̃̂͗̎̒͘ḙ̶̛̛̪͔̻̤̱͔̬̰͓̳̓̍̓͘͘b̸̡̡̢̜̝̹̫̥̟͔̺̊̔̇̽̇̏̿͗̎͋̕͝ ̷̡͔͈͕̼̼͚̳̿͜l̴͈̙̗̬̰̙̗͔̣͒̍̽̓́̂͑̔̇̿̾͝ĺ̶̡̦̪͍̪̦̭̗̜̼̰̅͂'̵̥̗̼͖͈̝̯̥̣̯͇̗̤̱̈̔̾̎͛̒t̶̢̬̫̤̞͇͐̒͆̓͛͜Ḯ̵͚̖̹͕͓̒̇ ̸̝̐̅̓̌̄̃̆͒̅̆̉͝.̸̧͓̦̹̝̹̯̗̿̐͊͆̃̅̾.̵͉̹̘̼̭̰̣̤͐̉̉̈̉̑̈́̎͛̐̓̈͌͂͋.̶͙̭̞̳̟͓̼̬̝̠͐̅͛͘ẗ̴̡̫̦̞̗̟̰̼̥̀͜ͅh̷̛̛̞̤͉͔̣̘̘̹̘̱̿̽͗̎̏̈́͑̉̅́͠ģ̷̧̫̩̥̙̘͓͓̺̻̮̯͚̈̐̃i̸̗͇̤̱͈̻͙̰̥̤̠̫̰͇̹̿̆̂̍̀͘͝l̸̛̛̩͖͙͖͕̙̥̥̠̯̤̄̍̔̓̿͗́̈́̉̕͘͘͜ ̷̡̺̪̠̳̩́͗̕͝ͅë̴̢̧̨̗̬̼̼́̈́̔h̵̜͕̦̬̭̹̺̱̯̥͖́̀̃̆̅͛̔̓̓͋̚͝t̶̨̲̰̳͖͐̂͗͐̍̍̂̔͂̔̽͆͆̚ ̴̹̼̥͔̪̗̎͌̚̕ǫ̷̡̛͙̙̯͎̼̬͉̬̙͕̜̲͒͐̒̾͋͘ṫ̶̢̧͖̙̰͙̹̹͔̘̦̳̘̭͌͒̕͝͝ ̵̨̨̢̥̱̪̈́̍͐͛͊ö̸̡̢͖͔͖̯̜̥̹̳̯́̍̊̇̓͘͜G̶̡̭̦̼̞̪͎̗͑̓̓͊̎̐͝ͅ ̴̡̧̙̣̹̘̐͂̐͊̅̈̎̓̄̊.̵̨̩̙̦͙͚̠̮̣̯̭̖͌͐͊͛̒͒̔̆͆̄̕.̷̟͇̼̦͕͆́̉̓̋ͅ.̵̢͓̝͖̦̠̝̩̘̞̑͊̔̔͌͗͒͗̎̅͘͜ͅġ̶̢̡̳̭̳͚̗̬̰̮̳̝̟͚̖͐n̵̢̧̡̼̣͓̯͔̲̓͜͝ͅi̶̞̖̞͇̯̾͛̑̀͝o̵̡̯̲̣̳͓͎̠̒̍͒͑̐͐̋̑̓̎̓̕͠͠ĝ̵͈̮̘͕̜̭̪̋̈́̈̏͒̌͘͝͠ ̶̘̫̙̺̳͚̖͕̪̗̖̟͆̌̓̽̄̐́̋̅̚͝͠ͅͅp̷̨̢̻̝̞̥̳̝̱̼̗̈́̾̽̒͗̾̑̌̒̑͘̕͜͝ẹ̸̪̝̣͓͇̩͚̥̟̙͕̳̄̈́̈͒̋̋̇̍̀͒̚͝e̷̼͐̅̊̒̎̔́͋̔͑̕͘͘K̴̡̩̮̥̙͉̤̺͆͒̏͆̋̈́̉̊͌̚_ **

**_The voices spurred them on. Keep going they told them. The lights and the voices kept them safe, kept them going. Another voice inside, one that seemed shrouded in darkness, tried to urge them back down, down, down further into the ink._ **

**_But they didn’t listen._ **

**_The ink around them shined golden now, and it seemed to lift them up, pushing them out of the ink. Pushing them up, up, up until…_ **

A hand reached out of the ink puddle.

* * *

“Lacie, quick, grab it!” Allison told her friend. The animatronic reached out and grabbed the hand that breached the surface of the large ink puddle.

This was unheard of.

Nothing, no one, ever came back out of an ink puddle. Not a searcher, not a Lost One, not a toon, no one.

So when Allison and Lacie saw a hand, a human hand, reaching out of the ink puddle, covered in golden ink that seemed to shimmer in the light, they knew it meant something.

Lacie grabbed onto the hand with both of her animatronic arms and pulled. There was some resistance, the ink was reluctant to let go once it had you, but with some help from Allison, the two were able to pull Ann and Tom out of the puddle.

Ann and Tom, who had survived more Inky Threats than any man should have to survive. Ann and Tom, one trapped here form the start, the other fresh blood in an old system. Ann and Tom, who could either be bitter rivals or close friends, depending on the loop.

Ann, who was covered head to toe in golden ink, and Tom, who was barely keeping himself together upon exiting the puddle.

“Tom! Ann!” Allison cried out in relief, rushing over to Tom once she and Lacie dragged there friends far enough away form the large ink puddle. The angel threw her arms around the wolf in relief. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost him. “Oh, you’re ok…”

Lacie knelt down, a troublesome act considering her rusty robot joints, by Ann, checking to make sure the woman was ok. Ann groaned and opened her eyes, squinting up at the animatronic. Lacie titled her head, an almost inquisitive buzzing sound coming form the back of her head.

Ann exhaled. “I think the other Alice,” it made Ann sick to refer to poor Susie that way, “was on to something when she told me about the dark puddles…”

The dark-haired woman looked over and saw that, while mostly stable, Tom was looking like a candy bar that was left out in the car in the summer heat. He looked like he was in intense pain.

Despite Lacie’s mechanic protests (mostly consisting of trying to hold Ann down and a few grinding gear sounds in her arms), Ann reached over and laid a comforting hand on Tom’s (non-robotic) hand.

“You good?”

Tom exhaled, suddenly relaxed. As if he wasn’t in any pain. Lacie made a loud whirring sound, and Allison gasped in shock. “Ann! Your hand,”

“’s wrong with it?” Ann asked. Glancing down, her green eyes widened in surprise. The golden ink that seemed to surround her, seemed more concentrated on her hand, the hand that laid on Tom’s arm. The golden ink, shimmering in the low light, traveled in tendrils up Tom’s arm and through the wolf’s body.

Ann couldn’t move. She couldn’t. Something told her, _don’t move your hand_. _Don’t move your hand, and he’ll be ok_.

Ann watched in horror and fascination, as the golden ink from her hand traveled up and down Tom. Slowly, ever so slowly, pulling the ink that made his body back together, seeming to stitch him back up into the cartoon-ish wolf Ann had always known him as. After what seemed like hours, when Tom seemed to resemble more of a model sheet and less a melted popsicle, Ann moved her hand away.

Tom blinked his eyes open, and Allison threw her arms around him again, thanking God and whoever else would listen to her that he was ok. Startled, and a bit confused on what happened, Tom returned the hug, pleased with the contact from the angel.

Ann sat up next to Lacie, humming softly and smiling. Thinking that on some level, those two knew who they used to be before the studio. She hoped they remembered, they deserved to remember.

Lacie tapped her on the shoulder and then pointed down to her hands. Examining them, Ann found that if she concentrated hard enough, she could will more golden ink, the kind that you normally only see through the Looking Glass, into existence in the palm of her hand.

Ann glanced up at Lacie, then to Tom and Allison, back to her own hands, and then all around.

It was quiet, almost peaceful. They were all ok, no worse for wear then when they left the safehouse. This was probably one of the happier moments any of them have had since first entering the studio. Yet, to Ann, something felt off.

This wasn’t like any of the loops she remembered before. This wasn’t something she could remember seeing on Drew’s storyboards. This wasn’t like anything from the old Bendy cartoons. This wasn’t like anything Ann experienced before at all.

This was new.

This was a change in the story neither Ann nor Drew could predict.

Lacie placed a hand on Ann’s shoulder. _Are you ok?_ She seemed to ask. _What happened? Are you ok?_

Ann frowned and willed away the stressful tears that threatened to fall. “I… I don’t know what this means…” The golden ink shined brightly in her hands. Like a lighthouse on the ocean, like a fireplace in winter, like all the good things people think of when they see such a beautiful, golden light. “I don’t know what any of this means…”


	3. Garden Variety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ann has a dream about the most colorful garden she has ever seen and a Bendy who is way sweeter than any other Bendy she has meet before. (Written for Ink Demonth Day 26: Fave AU! Hope you enjoy!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to @a-rae-of-sunshine for letting me use her Garden Variety and Happily Ever After au for this little one-shot/writing practice/excuse to write something fluffy for the first time in a long time. Again, one day I will get to actually writing the real story in my au. For now, I write these. Also this story isn't beta-d/proofread so sorry in advanced for low quality.
> 
> (By the by: The song used is called On a Sunday Afternoon. I recommend this recording if you want to give it a listen: https://youtu.be/cX_TeUB2TSo)

Bendy whistled a happy little tune as he skipped through the fields of flower buds. Rae was off somewhere else in the Garden, doing something or other. Bendy assumed she was just off checking on some of the more mature buds, the ones ready to bloom. He had met a few of them, all lovely flowers who were very kind to him.

He always liked it when he dreamed of this place.

“Bendy, there you are!” A kind voice called out from behind him. Bendy turned and gave the flower a smile. _“Hello, Flower!”_ He signed.

“I found someone in the garden I want you to meet.”

The little devil’s smile grew wide. _“Did one of the buds bloom? Do I get to make another friend?”_

Rae chuckled. “No, I don’t think we’ll be seeing any new flowers just yet. But, you might be able to make a new friend.”

_“Oh, boy! Can we go meet them now?”_

“Of course we can, but, Bendy, there is something about this new friend you need to know.” Bendy tilted his head in confusion.

_“Is it a scary looking friend?”_

Rae laid her hands down on the ground and the little devil stepped in. The flower brought the little ink child closer to her face and spoke with quite kindness. “No, dear, this new friend, well… she’s sort of like your Dad.”

_“My… Dad?”_

“Yes, in that… Oh, how do I explain this?”

Bendy frowned in confusion. _“Is she related to my Dad? Like Linda and me?”_

“Yes and no.” Upon seeing the confusion on the little devil’s face, Rae elaborated. “She is a relative of Henry’s… Just not your Henry.” Rae could practically see the question marks forming over Bendy’s head. “Do you remember when you met Magenta?” Bendy nodded. “It’s like that! Magenta was Joey Drew but he wasn’t your Joey Drew.”

Bendy’s face lit up with understanding. _“So, even though she’s related to a Henry, she’s not related to my Dad and me?”_

“That’s right. And Bendy, it seems that she is… she’s stuck in her own version of the Studio.” Bendy’s eyes widened in surprise, then a look of worry.

_“But if she’s in the studio, how is she here?”_

“The same way you are my dear boy, she’s dreaming.” Rae folded her hands over, safely encasing Bendy within. “Now hold tight, let me introduce you two.”

* * *

It had been a short, if not slightly bumpy ride (Rae always tried her best to make the ride over as smooth as she could for him), before Bendy was slowly let down on the ground. He was placed in a flower field—not Buds, just scenic ones in any color you could imagine—in front of a young woman. She looked around Linda’s age, maybe a few years younger, Bendy wasn’t sure. She was fiddling with a strand of long, curly black hair and eyeing him with nervous green eyes.

“Here we are,” Rae announced kindly, then gestured to the young woman, “Bendy, this is Ann.”

Ann offered a small, forced, nervous smile and a slight wave before going bag to tugging on her hair. She fidgeted in her spot, eyes flickering between Bendy, Rae, and the ground as if she didn’t know where to look.

Bendy tilted his head, stroking his chin in thought, then turned to Rae and signed _“She kind of looks like Alice.”_ Well, sort of. Mostly the dark hair and pale features. The bright colors of her attire (Teal fleece jacket that draped down to her knees, old red sneakers, etc.) made it clear to Bendy that this wasn’t the Alice he sometimes saw in his dreams, but someone entirely new.

Ann sighed heavily, tiredly. “Great, even here people think I’m her.”

Bendy looked at Ann. _“You know ASL?”_

Ann nodded. “Yeah, my Uncle speaks ASL, so a lot of my family knows it.” Bendy smiled as he realized as Ann spoke, she seemed to sign along. Bendy smiled at her.

_“You don’t have to sign if you don’t want too. I can hear, I just can’t speak…”_

“Oh, um, ok…” She didn’t sign along, but her hands went to fiddle with the edge of her jacket. Bendy took a step toward her and Ann, panic written on her face, took a few hasty steps back.

The little devil frowned and Ann ducked her head, curls obscuring her face. She was shaking. Rae moved over toward her and gently touched her back. “It’s ok, sweetie, you’re safe.”

Ann looked up at Rae. “Am I?”

“Of course, sweetie!” Rae assured her. “This isn’t the studio you know. This Bendy here is very friendly!”

Ann looked over at Bendy and he gave her a smile and an encouraging thumbs up in return. Ann wasn’t shaking anymore, but she still seemed nervous. “I—I know it’s just he…” Ann turned back to Rae. “He looks so much like the Bendy I know.” And then Ann once again glanced away.

After a moment, Rae tapped Ann on the shoulder and nodded towards Bendy, still a respectable distance away from Ann. _“Is your Bendy mean?”_ Ann blinked at the little devil. _“I was mean once, but I’m trying to be better! So, I was wondering…”_

“Um, no, no. My Bendy isn’t mean… Well I guess he was kind of… He’s, um,” Ann rubbed the back of her neck, “My Bendy is _complicated_. I’d rather now talk about it…” Bendy frowned. Complicated was one of his least favorite words. Mainly because that was the answer all adults gave him when they couldn’t give him a straight answer.

“It’s ok, sweetie.” Rae assured her. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Bendy nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Ann gave them both a small smile. “Um, can I ask a question?”

“Of course you can.”

“How… How am I here? The last thing I remember this really angry Boris-clone with a metal arm and a Bendy-animatronic were throwing me into a prison cell while someone that looked like Alice Angel was watching the door.”

Bendy’s eyes widened. _“You mean Tom and Allison?”_

“Who?”

_“Tom’s the Boris-clone and Allison is the Angel_.”

“I guess so?” Ann shook her head. “How do you know who they are?”

_“Tom and Allison got out of the studio when my Dad and I left. We all live together now, so we know each other pretty well”_ Bendy paused, then continued. _“I have no idea who the Bendy-Bot is, though.”_

“Oh, that’s ok, and cool that you guys got out.” Ann chuckled, crossing her arms. “Gives me hope. Wait, am I out of the studio now?”

“I’m afraid you’re only dreaming,” Rae cooed sadly, “Just like Bendy here.”

“So this is a dream?” Ann turned, glancing at her surroundings. “It’s pretty here, a lot prettier than my other dreams.”

“Why thank you, I work very hard to maintain this place.” Rae told her. “Of course, Bendy here helps whenever he can.”

“Oh, really? What do you do?”

_“Sometimes I water the Buds!”_ Bendy told her proudly. _“But most of the times I talk to the Buds and play games with the ones that have bloomed and all sorts of others.”_

Ann placed a hand to her mouth to stifle a snicker. She had to admit, while she still had her doubts (she’d been trapped in that studio for who knows how long, after all), this Bendy before her was much more likable than her Bendy had been as of late. He had a sort of childish innocence about him that activated her ‘Big-Sister-Instincts’ something fierce.

“I have an idea,” Rae chimed in, “since you might be here for a while, Ann, how about you and Bendy help me tend my Buds?”

Bendy grinned from ear to ear (horn to horn?) and nodded enthusiastically. _“That would be fun!”_ Then the little devil look at Ann. _“That is, if it’s ok with you, Ann?”_

Ann shrugged. “I suppose, so. It’s not like I had any other plans for this dream.”

“Wonderful!” Rae said happily, offering her hand for the two to step in. “I’ll take you to a spot full of Buds!”

As Bendy stepped in, he noticed Ann seemed hesitant. _“Don’t worry.”_ He told her. _“Flower’s very gentle!”_ Then he offered Ann a hand of assistance. For a brief second, Ann’s face flashed with fear and Bendy had to remind himself that she was still trapped in her own version of the Studio, battling her own Ink Demons and whatever else Joey Drew decided to throw at her.

But then, with an air of nervous reluctance Ann took the little devil’s hand and stepped into Rae’s hands. As she did so, Bendy gave her a reassuring smile. He wasn’t the Bendy she knew, she wasn’t in the Studio right now, she was safe.

“Hold on you two.” Rae told them, enclosing them in her hands and setting off.

* * *

“So, what kind of flowers bloom here?” Ann asked.

_“Friendly ones!”_ Bendy told her. _“Like Flower.”_

Rae had taken them to a distant patch, but one that Bendy was familiar with. The Buds here were getting really big, they might bloom soon. Bendy hoped they would, anyway. He and Ann were sitting in the middle of the Bud patch, content to just lounge in probably one of the most relaxing settings they had both ever been in before.

“Sort of like me, Bendy.” Rae said. “The flowers that bloom here are all very different.”

“How different?”

“Well, there’s no one set species of flower here. They bloom in any shade, shape, and size they want with a wide array of beautiful personalities.”

_“Like people!”_

“Exactly like people, Bendy.” Rae knelt closer to Ann. “Some of the flowers are small, some of them are large. Some of them look friendly, some of them look scary. But this is a safe place for everyone here.”

“That’s good. It’s nice to feel safe.” Ann glanced at all the flower buds around. She found it amazing and kind of surreal, any type of flower that one could imagine could probably bloom here. What would they look like? Would they have a unique fragrance? Just how ‘alive’ are they? Can they all move around like Rae could?

The questions swarmed around Ann’s head until she felt a little tug on the hem of her jacket. Bendy smiled at her. _“What kind of flower to do you like best? I like Dafydills, but I wish they came in purple.”_

Ann hummed in thought. “Roses. White roses, like the kind my grandma used to grow in her garden when I was a little kid.”

_“That sounds really pretty!”_

“They are.” Ann smiled. “Y’know she gave me this jacket I’m wearing.”

_“Really?”_

“Yeah, that’s why it’s kind of old.” Ann chuckled, thinking fondly on old memories. “She always wore this jacket during winter, because even with a fireplace and heater going full blast she still thought it was too cold. But whenever I was over there, I stole it from her closet because I thought I looked pretty like her in the jacket.”

_“You do look pretty in it.”_

“Aw, thank you. But, yeah, she got really sick last year and started giving her stuff away. She knew how much I liked it so she gave it to me.”

Bendy frowned. _“I’m sorry about your grandma…”_

“It’s ok. She’s not hurting anymore. And she’s with my grandpa again, so it’s all good.”

_“She sounds like a cool grandma.”_

“She was a pretty cool grandma. She used to bake cookies, and I would always help her, but then I usually ate more cookie dough then I put on the baking sheet.” Ann was slightly startled by Bendy’s whistling laughter but soon found herself joining in.

_“I do that all the time! It drives Allison crazy… She says it’ll make me sick, but I only ever get sick from eating to many cookies, not the dough.”_

“That’s what my grandma used to say. It’s not like we ate the entire tub of cookie dough.”

_“I would’ve like to, though.”_ Bendy admitted.

“Me too.” The two shared another laugh as Ann leaned back onto the grass, being careful not to hit any Buds. “You mentioned Allison earlier.”

_“Yeah, she lives with me and Dad and Tom. She’s really nice!”_

“You guys sound like one big happy family. Tell me more about them all.” And so Bendy told her everything.

He told her about Allison, who was once a voice actress for an Angel. Bendy told Ann that she was nice and sweet and let him help her in the kitchen sometimes and sang the best songs sometimes. He told her of Tom, who was once a grumpy Boris-clone but was now just a grumpy-old man (that last bit took some time for Bendy explain to Ann, but she was very impressed nonetheless) who sometimes tossed him the air like a football and who let Bendy watch TV with him at night or when he was bored and it was raining outside. He told Ann of his older sister Linda who had her own apartment, who worked at a store and gave him treats from it sometimes, and who was probably the best dancer he had ever seen, besides himself of course. Then, finally, Bendy told Ann about his dad.

He told Ann about how his dad use to work for Joey Drew when he was younger, but then how bad stuff happened, and then other stuff happened, and then how he had to fight tooth and nail against everything in the Studio. Bendy noticed that those parts made Ann look really sad, so he then told her how he tells silly (and sometimes bad) jokes to make everyone smile, how he was a really good artist, and how he was probably the best dad in the world, ever.

That last part did make Ann smile, but Bendy thought her eyes still looked sad. “Your Henry kind of sounds like my Henry…”

Ann turned to look at the ground and she seemed to be blinking back tears. Bendy tapped her hand and she turned to him. _“What was he like? If you don’t mind my asking.”_

Ann sniffled but smiled, nonetheless. “He was patient. Kind of quiet, but he was the strongest man I ever knew. And he was a really good artist too. I always wanted to be as good of an artist as he was, but he always told me I would be better.”

Bendy’s eyes lit up. _“You’re an artist too?”_

“Yeah?”

_“So am I! Well, I’m not officially one yet, but I’m working on it!”_

“Really?” Bendy nodded. “Can I see some of your work?”

Bendy held up a finger and produced a pen and some paper from behind his back (this made Ann laugh) and began to draw. It took him some time, he wanted to get it just right, but after some time it was done, and he presented Ann with a drawing he made of her.

“Oh, Bendy, thank you! That’s very sweet, and you’re very good! You have better line control than I did at your age, I’m impressed.” Ann smiled and then held out her hand. “Now let me return the favor.”

Bendy happily obliged and produced another pencil and paper for her to use. She went to work and scribbled away at the paper. After another long while, Ann handed Bendy the sheet of paper and Bendy grinned widely. It was a lovely little drawing of him sitting in between the Buds.

_“Thank you, Ann!”_

“You’re welcome. It was kind of nice to draw something other than Cuphead or Mugman for a change.” Ann smiled, holding Bendy’s drawing of her in her hands.

_”You draw Cuphead and Mugman a lot?”_

“Yeah, it’s kinda my job. I’m an animator on their show.”

_“YOU ANIMATE FOR CUPHEAD AND MUGMAN?!”_ And of course, the excited little devil insisted Ann tell him all about what it was like to animate the brothers and all their friends, what it was like to be an animator, and all other sorts of questions.

* * *

“Do you get to watch a lot of TV?” Ann asked Bendy as they walked along a path between many Buds. “When I was young my parents restricted my TV access. They said it would make my eyes go bad.”

_“Did it?”_

“No. Well, I do wear reading glasses, but I think that’s more correlation and not causation. Pretty sure.”

_“I watch the news with everyone at night before I go to bed. And then I watch all the Cuphead and Mugman cartoons on Saturday mornings.”_

“Figured. Any other shows?”

_“Sometimes Tom lets me watch The Andy Griffith Show or The Twilight Zone with him._ ”

Ann gave him a look. “Wait, what shows?”

Bendy repeated himself, paused, and then added _“But Allison and I like watching I Love Lucy reruns too. Oh, and I really like all the Lone Ranger reruns they play on TV, but sometimes I forget that they’re on…”_

Ann stopped walking and gave him an odd look. _“What?”_

“I think… I think we live in different time periods.”

_“How do you know?”_

“Because those are all the shows that I used to watch when I was a little kid, and they’ve all been canceled for a long time.”

_“Well, what shows do you watch?”_

“Happy Days, Charlie’s Angels, The Dukes of Hazzard, to name a few…”

Bendy, realizing he had never heard of any of these shows before, paused and then kind of stared off into space, his brain trying to make sense of what he had just heard, and Ann couldn’t say she wasn’t doing the same.

After some time, they both turned to Rae, who was just over the hill and asked how this could be possible. She shrugged. “I’m not entirely sure.”

* * *

Ann sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to wake up.”

_“I know how you feel.”_ Bendy told her. _“It’s so nice here.”_

“It really is…” Ann glanced down at the buds by her feet. “I wish I never went to the Studio.”

Bendy frowned. _“I… I understand why you feel that way, and you’re more than right to feel that way… But it can’t all be bad, right?”_

“Bendy, I’m surrounded by souls trapped in Inky Hell, I’ve been dropped on my head so many times I think I might have five different types of concussions, and I…” Ann reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of glasses.

Wire-rimmed, round in shape, and cracked lenses. Bendy examined them and then raised a (metaphorical more than literal) brow at Ann. _“Who did these belong to?”_

“Boris’s.” Bendy stared at Ann in shock but the dark-haired woman quickly backpedaled. “Well, his name wasn’t actually Boris, he was just a clone… These were his. Then that… that stupid Angel-Wannabe!...”

His dad never told him what happened to the Boris he traveled with in the studio, but considering how sad he got when it was mentioned, and how upset he was when another Angel was mentioned, Bendy could read between the lines. He was able to read between the lines here as well.

_“I’m sure you did your best.”_ Tears welled up in Ann’s eyes, she wrapped her arms around herself. _“I’m sure Boris—whoever he was, I’m sure he knew you didn’t mean to… you know. And I’m sure that he didn’t want to hurt you just as much as you didn’t want to hurt him.”_ Ann squeezed herself tighter, crouching low to the ground. She was shaking again.

“I… I feel like it was my fault that I had too… I couldn’t save him in time. If we had just stayed in the safe house. Or if he never went with me, he would’ve been… Neither of us would’ve had to…”

Bendy went over and sat down in front of her, then signed, _“Would you like a hug? I won’t hug you if you don’t want one.”_ But Ann sniffled and opened up her arms; slowly, however, as if the whole world was weighing down on her. Bendy went in carefully, trying not to scare her, and gave the young woman a hug.

Hugs always made him feel nice, maybe they could help Ann too.

After a moment, Bendy pulled back and began to sign. _“I don’t pretend to know what you’re going through… But I know that if you’re anything like my dad, you did what you could to comfort your Boris before he…”_ Bendy paused, not knowing how to breech that topic. _“But, you have to know that you can’t fix everything. You just have to find whatever good you can and run with it.”_

Ann sniffed, rubbed tears from her eyes, and gave Bendy a small, watery smile. “Your dad sounds pretty smart.”

_“Smartest man in the world.”_

Ann patted the little devil’s head. “Thanks, Bendy. I needed to hear that… And sorry for kinda dumping everything on you.”

_“You’re going through a lot. It sounded like you needed to vent…”_

“I guess I did. You give great hugs by the way.”

_“I’m the Olympic Champion of Hugging!”_

“Is that an actual category where you’re from or are you just being a goofball?”

* * *

“So, how did your dad get out of the Studio?”

_“He shut off the machine.”_

“Just like that?” Ann raised a brow, surprised by how easy it sounded. “Just waltz up to the machine, pull the plug, and bing-bang-boom you guys were home free?”

_“Well… Pap—Mr. Drew didn’t make it easy, I’m sure.”_ Bendy sighed. _“No one really tells me what happened for sure, and I don’t remember that much.”_

“You’re still pretty young, squirt. Maybe when you’re older.”

_“Do your parents tell you stuff now that you’re older?”_

“Sometimes. At least, I think it’s easier for them to talk to me about certain things. But there are some topics no one really talks about.” _No matter how much I want too._

_“Like what?”_

“Uh… Mostly stuff about what my grandpa and a few uncles told them about working at the Studio, politics, war, that kind of thing.” Ann sat up, shrugging. “It gets easier to talk about these things growing up, but it also means you _know_ about those things. If I’m being honest, I kind of envy you, Bendy.”

_“Really?”_

“Yeah. You’re still young and get the chance to be a kid. You might be experiencing the ‘follies of youth’ but you get all the good stuff with it too.”

_“Like what?”_

“Innocence, mostly. The world is amazing to a kid, I wish I could still see it the way you do.”

_“Why can’t you do it now?”_

“Don’t get me wrong, I still see it that way sometimes. When it’s raining out and I have a cup of tea or hot cocoa to drink while I watch the storm, the first snow of winter, carnivals during the summer… But things get different when you grow up. How do I explain it?” Ann hummed thoughtfully, hugging her knees to her chest. “It’s like if you forget a toy in the yard for a really long time! Even though it’s weathered every storm, nearly cracked under certain pressures, and has been bleached by the sun, it’s still the same toy. Just, a little different.”

_“So, growing up is like, still being you, but changing?”_

“Everything changes, but everything also kind of… stays. Changes can be big, or small. But, no matter what, deep down, you’re still the same you.”

Bendy nodded, and placed a hand over his chest, feeling his beating heart, the frowned. _“What if you did bad stuff before?”_

Ann frowned and glanced down at her shoes. “I’m not going to lie; some bad stuff can change you to. It can affect you; I should know.”

Bendy glanced up at Ann, confused. _“You did bad stuff?”_

“Oh yeah. Believe it or not, I was kind of a—” Ann’s eyes widened as she took in Bendy’ sweet, innocent eye imploring her to finish her sentence, “…piece of work. I did really bad things and was involved in other not so good things.”

_“But you seem so nice, now.”_

“I try to be, I really do. But I can’t erase what I did or what happened, so I try to just learn from what happened, try not to slip back down that dark path again.”

_“Is it hard?”_

“Sometimes, yeah. I get really angry, I get really sad or scared, but I just kind of… pause. I take a moment to gather myself and remind myself that… I’m ok.”

_“Does it work?”_

“It’s gotten me this far.” Ann laid a hand on Bendy’s shoulder. “What I’m trying to say is, enjoy your youth while you can—cause that’s the one thing that never lasts—and whatever happens, good or bad, past or present or future, learn from it and grow.”

_“You sound like my dad and Linda.”_

Ann rolled her eyes. “Why am I passing my wisdom on to you, you already got a bunch of sages living with you.”

_“Maybe I should write a book about all the stuff my dad tells me.”_

“If you do, put in a section on how he survived being trapped in the Inky Abyss. I’d love to read that section.”

_“I’ll call it, ‘How to be a Hero’ like Henry Stein!”_

“A hero, eh?”

_“Yeah, he saved Tom, Allison, and me.”_ Bendy’s face lit up and Ann could all but imagine a cartoonish, little lightbulb appearing above his head. _“Maybe you’ll save people from your studio and be a hero, too!”_

“I don’t know, Bendy. I’m not a hero like Sherlock Homes or Frisk or Luke Skywalker.”

_“Luke Skywalker?”_ Bendy gave her an odd look.

“He’s from—oh, right, you probably wouldn’t know what Star Wars is yet.”

Bendy blinked owlishly at the young woman before slowly signing, _“Star… Wars?”_

“It’s a really good movie. It came out in the 1970’s, so you got a little while I’m sure…”

Bendy glanced from side to side and then gave Ann an impish smile. _“Could you maybe tell me about it, that way I know what to look for when it comes?”_

“I don’t know, I feel like that’s messing with a timeline, and Hollywood has taught me that isn’t a good idea.”

_“Must not be that good then.”_ A tiny, somewhat cocky, smirk and a shrug was all it took to get Ann a tiny bit offended.

“Excuse you sir, how dare you, Star Wars is _the best_ movie of all time! Apart from Bioshock.”

_“Prove it, then.”_

Ann blinked, realized she had been played, and then smirked. “Hand me some more papers and another pen, please. We’re gonna need visual examples as well.”

After explaining the basic concepts of The Force, the Jedi, and the Rebellion, Ann launched into an epic tale of a boy named Luke Skywalker saving Princess Leia from the evil Darth Vader with the help of rogue pilot Han Solo, his co-pilot/maybe-pet (Ann honestly still wasn’t sure) Chewbacca, and wise old Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. And added n a few details about spaceships, light sabers, and massive space fights with lasers and cool one-liners. Ann then added that, where/when she was from, there was a sequel coming out towards the end of May that year, but she went to the studio before she could see it.

Suffice to say, Bendy was absolutely hooked and couldn’t wait to see the actual thing a few years later if (Ann insisted on saying when) it came out.

Bendy’s newfound fascination only grew when, after supplying Ann with a few more art supplies, she produced two makeshift lightsabers—one painted blue and one painted red. The two duked it out like how Ann described the fight between Obi-Wan and Darth Vader went, with Bendy playing Obi-Wan and Ann producing light saber sound effects while trying (and somewhat failing) to talk like the masked villain.

Rae was more than a little confused about what they were doing when she glanced over to check on them, but she didn’t question it all to much, as they seemed to be having fun.

* * *

After thoroughly exhausting themselves playing with lightsabers, the two walked down to a nearby stream to get a drink of water. Ann was hesitant about drinking straight from the stream, so the little devil produced a couple glasses the same way he did the paper and pens and other crafts he had supplied the duo with over the course of this dream.

A moment of relaxation later, a thought occurred to Bendy. So he set his glass down and turned to Ann. _“Hey, Ann, can I ask you a question?”_

“Sure!”

_“How come you got so mad when I said you looked like Alice?”_ Bendy tilted his head to the side quizzically. _“Do you not like her character from the show?”_

“Oh, no, Bendy. I like Alice… Well, I like her fine from the show. Jury’s kinda out on how I feel about the Alice in the Studio.”

_“So why did you get so mad?”_

“It’s more like I was frustrated.” Ann shook her head, letting out a humorless chuckle. “Ever since my Bendy saw that one Alice Angel poster in he Music Department, it seems like every person with some semblance of lucidity seems to think I either look like Alice or I’m another Angel-copy that just went rogue or something.”

_“I guess that would get pretty annoying.”_

“It’s not like I’m not used to it.” Upon noticing Bendy’s curious look, Ann elaborated. “When I was little, I used to hide away in my room with all the old Bendy records and listen to all of Alice’s songs on repeat, singing along until I sounded—to my little toddler brain—exactly like her. My mom found out pretty quick and put me in voice lessons.”

_“That’s kinda cool!”_ Bendy smiled. _“You must be a good singer by now.”_

“I’m ok. But I stopped going when the place I took lessons at went downhill when I was in Junior High. But, that’s when people started realizing I was an artist and my main source of inspiration was… well, the old cartoons…”

Bendy, smiling sympathetically, was able to see where this story was going. _“Did they call you Alice in Junior High?”_

“They called me Angel, Siren Serenade, Sweet Little Toon Girl, the whole she-bang!” Ann rubbed a hand over her face. “I absolutely hated it. So, I did a bunch of stuff to prove I wasn’t an angel.”

_“Like what?”_

“For the sake of preserving innocence, I’ll just say bad stuff and leave it at that. But it worked, and no one except a couple friends and cousins ever called me Alice or Angel or anything like that ever again… Until I came into the Studio.”

Bendy smiled. _“Is it really bad to be compared to her?”_

“Once in a while? No. Every other time I step outside my house? Definitely.” Bendy laughed, and though Ann couldn’t quite see the humor in the situation as much as she used to be able to, she was glad the little devil was enjoying himself.

He really was a sweet kid when you got to know him.

“Bendy, Ann, come over here for a moment!” Rae called out. Bendy and Ann exchanged curious looks, shrugged, and walked over to the flower.

_“Everything ok, Flower?”_ Bendy asked once they finally arrived at a small patch of Buds. Rae was lying down on the ground, arms folded comfortably in front of her.

“Everything’s just fine.” Rae told them. “I just thought you two would like to see this.”

“See what?” Ann asked, kneeling down beside Rae and Bendy.

“Look here,” Rae nodded towards the Bud in front of her. It was shifting, moving. It reminded Ann and Bendy about how eggs in cartoons moved before something was about to hatch out of it, “a Bud is blooming!”

_“Wow!”_ Bendy smiled, stars in his little pie-cut eyes. _“I wonder what kind of flower friend it’ll be!”_

Ann, having never seen anything that could compare to this moment, was completely enraptured. The Bud in front of them shifted and shook more and more until finally, after a long moment of held breathes, the leaves pulled back and out popped a little flower.

It was small, maybe up to Bendy’s shoulders in height. It looked like a rose, but not one Bendy or Ann had ever seen before. It wore silver glasses and each petal on the rose shone a different, vibrantly bright color. It’s stem body was thin and almost grass-like, and it had to spindly arms that gave way to pink petal hands. But the most eye catching feature of this new Flowery-Friend was the skirt. Petals large and small shone in a vas array of colors and hues that seemed to shift and shine whenever the plant moved.

The brightly colored flower looked up and gave a cheerful smile and a shy wave to the onlookers. “Hello!”

Bendy’s grin grew wider. _“She’s so colorful!”_

“She’s so tiny…” Ann leaned down, inspecting the new flower.

Rae chuckled lightly at her companions fascination before leaning down to be eye-level with the new flower. “Hello, little friend. My name is Rae. Do you have a name?”

The flower paused, looked at Rae, looked at Bendy and Ann, looked at it’s skirt, looked at a nearby hill, and then looked at the sky before turning back to Rae. “I’m Rainbow Rose.”

“Welcome to my Garden, Rainbow Rose.” Rae then gestured to Ann and Bendy. “These are my friends, Bendy and Ann.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Ann smiled as Bendy waved. “I love your skirt!”

“Thank you! I made it myself.”

_“So, Rainbow Rose, what kind of stuff do you like to do for fun?”_

Rainbow Rose clapped her hands together happily. “I like to dance and twirl my skirt…”

“If I had a skirt like yours, I would too…” Ann said.

“Oh! And I like to sing songs.”

“Do you have a song in mind?” Rae asked.

“Kind of. I know the song, just not the lyrics.”

“We’d love to hear it.” Rae said encouragingly. “We’re all ears.” Bendy glanced at Rae and then motioned to his own head. “You know what I mean, Bendy.” Ann laughed.

So, Rainbow Rose began to hum the melody. Her voice soft and low, but crystal clear. Sort of like the melody she sang. Ann nodded her head along to the singing, feeling as though she had heard the song before. When Rainbow Rose paused, it clicked in Ann’s head. “Oh. I know this song!”

“You do?’ Rainbow Rose asked excitedly.

“Yeah, it’s a really old song. Older than my grandparents, I think…”

_“What’s it called.”_

“Sunday Afternoon.”

“Would you like to sing with me?” Rainbow Rose asked eagerly.

“Um,” Ann glanced at Rae and Bendy—who nodded encouragingly and gave her a thumbs up, respectively—and shrugged, “Uh, sure.”

Ann cleared her throat and waited for Rainbow Rose to begin humming the tune. _“~There's a day, we feel gay, if the weather's fine. Every lad feels so glad, if the sun does shine. In his best, he is dressed, and with smiling face; He goes with his Pearlie, his own little girlie to some nice place...~”_

The young woman glanced over to find Bendy swaying back and forth in time with the song, a content smile on his face. _“~On a Sunday afternoon, in the merry month of June... Take a trip up the Hudson or down the bay, take a trolley to Coney or Rockaway. On a Sunday afternoon, you can see the lover's spoon... They work hard on Monday, but one day that's fun day is Sunday afternoon.~”_

Bendy took to whistling along to Rainbow Rose’s humming and Rae swayed her hands back and forth, much like a conductor would, in a relaxed manner. _“~Coming home, starry dome with a soft moonshine. Lover's kiss, oh what bliss, oh what joy divine! 'Goodnight Joe' 'Goodnight Flo, don't forget now dear, next Sunday at two, I'll be waiting for you on the old Iron Pier.'~”_

Having now learned the words and with Bendy whistling the tune, Rainbow Rose felt more confident in joining Ann in singing the final chorus _. “~On a Sunday afternoon, in the merry month of June... Take a trip up the Hudson or down the bay, take a trolley to Coney or Rockaway. On a Sunday afternoon, you can see the lover's spoon... They work hard on Monday, but one day that's fun day is Sunday afternoon.~”_

Rae and Bendy applauded the duo, Ann blushed bashfully, ducking her head while saying her thanks, and Rainbow Rose curtseyed gratefully, having enjoyed the performance. Bendy tapped Ann on the shoulder. _“I think I like your singing better than Alice’s in the cartoons.”_

“Thank you, Bendy. And you’re whistling was sublime!” Bendy smiled bashfully, enjoying the praise.

* * *

Rae had taken Bendy, Ann, and Rainbow Rose to a bigger patch in the Garden. This one full of flowers that had long since bloomed. Rainbow Rose skipped over happily, immediately gravitating towards another group of flowers who were singing and dancing.

“So, Ann, did you enjoy your time in the Garden?” Rae asked as the trip watched Rainbow Rose frolic around with other flowers.

Ann nodded. “This is the most content and relaxed I’ve been in a long time.” She smiled over the view of the Garden and all the other flowers. “I’m happy I got to come here.”

_“I’m happy you came here too!”_ Bendy said.

“Aw, you’re just the sweetest little devil out there, aren’t you?” Ann laughed, pulling Bendy into a one-armed hug.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it here… But, I’m afraid it’s time for you to go.”

“What makes you say that”? The flower pointed down to Ann’s feet, which seemed to be slowly fading away. “Oh… does that mean I’m waking up.”

“Yes, it does.”

Ann hummed thoughtfully, mouth a thin line. “When I wake up, I’ll be in a prison cell in the Studio…” Bendy, quite sad that his new friend had to be leaving, wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. Ann draped an arm over the little devil’s back and placed her other hand on top of his head, giving him a comforting pat. “I suppose it was inevitable.”

Bendy sniffled. _“I’m gonna miss you…”_

“Oh, I’ll miss you too, Bendy.” The two friends shared a tight hug, before Ann opened her eyes and noticed that her hands were starting to fade. Smiling sadly, Ann turned to the devil. “Any last words of wisdom before I leave?”

Bendy rubbed his eyes before fixing Ann with a determined look and signing four simple words that spoke volumes to the young woman, _“Don’t give up hope.”_

“Bendy’s right.” Rae told Ann, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I can imagine that things look bleak now, but his father got out because he held onto the hope he would get out. And I know you can do the same.”

Ann sniffed and rubbed the fresh tears from her eyes, smiling. “Ok.” She choked a bit, emotion tightening her throat. “I won’t give up.”

Bendy looked at her. _“Will you come back and visit? When you’re out of the Studio?”_

“I’ll try my best, ok? I promise.” Bendy gave Ann a watery smile before the two share done last tight. Reassured that this wasn’t a ‘Good-bye’ but a ‘See you later’. Ann blinked her eyes open, the world of colorful flowers and kind-hearted demons started to fade away. “I’ll come back someday; I promise.”

The world blurred around her, and soon, Ann couldn’t feel neither Rae’s hand on her shoulder or Bendy’s tight embrace. Ann blinked again, the world around her was black.

“I promise.”

Ann blinked.

She woke up.

* * *

Ann awoke like a cat, fully alert and aware of her surroundings. The sepia-toned Studio walls seemed to mock her. As if knowing her dream world was filled with bright colors she thought she’d never see again, this world was the same color of forgotten cartoon reals. The young woman scrunched her nose up in disgust. _This sucks,_ she thought.

_“~La da da la da da~”_ Ann, curious, stretched out of bed and walked to the wooden planks that served as the bars in her jail cell. The one singing was the other Alice Angel, the one who impaled Susie!Alice with a sword. She was painting a barn onto the wall with a paintbrush dipped in ink. Ann placed a hand onto the shelf and peered out a window-esque space between the planks. _“~La da da da da da… Da dada da…~”_

The song was familiar, an old tune Ann know a little to well by now. One she used to hum everyday as a little girl, and one she caught herself humming form time to time well into adulthood. _Lonely Angel_ , Ann recalled. A quick glance around this new hideout proved that, beside Ann herself, this Angel was alone. No Boris clones with robot arms or Bendy Animatronics in sight. “I know that song.” Ann told her warden.

“Everyone knows that song.” The other Angel stilled her movements, briefly turning to face Ann.

_‘Tom’s the Boris-clone and Allison is the Angel_.’ Bendy’s advice flashed through her head. So, this one was named Allison, and that Boris that looked at her like she was a dirty Commie was named Tom. Bendy said his were like his family, so they must be friendly. But that kind of left the Bendy Animatronic out of the picture. Bendy said he had no idea who that was, but he knew Allison and Tom; so that must mean they were trustworthy, right?

Allison turned to face Ann fully now, sizing her up as she set her brush back in a small bucket of ink. “Who are you?” She asked. “Why are you here?”

_I wanted answers_ , Ann thought, _I wanted answers and now I’m trapped here with no way out and…_

_‘Don’t give up hope.’_ Bendy’s words of encouragement echoed in her mind. No, no Ann wasn’t trapped here. Bendy got out. And so did his Henry, and Allison, and Tom. They got out. They beat the odds. Ann could to. She just had to hold on, hold on to whatever hope she had left.

Deep down she hoped (she knew) it would be enough.

“My name is Ann.” She told Allison. “I found an old letter of my grandpa’s…”

* * *

The storm raged on outside. Nothing to horrible, just a heavy rain and a good amount of thunder and lightning. The perfect summer storm, as Henry said before he and Tom left for town. The former cartoon wolf was still not a big fan of crowds, but he agreed to help Henry with the groceries so the old animator wouldn’t put further strain on his back.

Henry blamed his back problems on the weather, but Allison and Tom knew that late evenings spent hunched over whatever animation assignments he was working on had more to do with it.

“Here you go, Bendy. Lunch is served!” Allison smiled as she sat down, gracefully setting a plate with a PB&J with a side of chips next to Bendy, as well as setting her own plate of sandwich and chips in front of her as well.

_“Thank you!”_ Bendy smiled, taking a break from his drawing to eat his lunch. Allison always made his PB&J just the way he liked it, extra peanut butter and grape jelly. Though he ate slowly (he was very committed to his drawings right now)

About halfway through her lunch (Allison ate much quicker then Bendy did) of a PB&J with an even amount of peanut butter and strawberry jelly, the front door slammed open, and a rain drenched Tom and Henry carried in a heavy load of groceries in each arm.

“This should be all of it, but I’ll probably go out and check once we get these loaded up.” Henry told Allison stepped into the kitchen.

“I didn’t even hear you two pull up.” Allison said, going to help the men put away groceries. Bendy moved to go help as much he could, but Henry took one look at his son and told him to finish eating. After all, no one wanted groceries covered in ink and jelly coated fingerprints.

Bendy nodded, and returned to his lunch. He was finished with his sandwich, only idly eating a few chips, and well back into his drawings by the time Henry, Tom, and Allison joined him at the table. Tom scooted closer to Allison, draped his arm over the back of her chair, and swiped a large handful of chips from her plate, she pretended not to notice.

“Couple of tree limbs were blocking Main Street and South Arbor Road. Had to go along the back way just to get to the grocery store..” Henry told Allison.

“Linda and Mrs. Henderson called earlier, wanted to see if we still had power.” Allison said. “It flickered a bit after you two left but it’s held out so far.”

“Well, we got candles and flashlights if we do lose power.”

“Are the batteries still good in the flashlights?”

“They should be. Do batteries expire?”

“Well, I mean, they stop working…” While the adults had their conversation, Bendy began to quietly whistle to himself the song Ann had sung with Rainbow Rose in his dream. It was a nice song, a sweet song. He really liked it. He’d have to ask Allison is she knew it later.

Meanwhile, Tom, who had only written a few responses onto his notepad once or twice in the aforementioned conversation, glanced over to the little devil. He raised a brow down at Bendy’s drawings. Normally the little devil would draw at his desk in his room, but it wasn’t uncommon to see him drawing at the table or in the living room. He had a few completed sheets strewn around the one he was still working on. The one that caught Tom’s eye was the one that looked like a crudely drawn version of Alice Angel singing a song to a flower.

Although, upon a closer look, Tom realized it wasn’t Alice. His next guess was Allison, but that didn’t seem right. Bendy always drew Allison with her broken horns, but this woman in the drawing had no horns to speak off. Just a bunch of musical notes by her head and a giant flower as well.

Henry and Allison noticed Tom had seemed to have checked out of the conversation and followed his gaze to the pile of drawings. They to seemed puzzled as to who the woman in Bendy’s drawings could be.

“What’cha drawing there, bud?’ Henry asked his son. Bendy looked up, smiled, and signed, _“Just stuff from my dream last night. It was a good one!”_

“I’m glad you had a good dream, Bendy.” Allison said, and then gently tapped the drawing of the unknown woman. “Is that a drawing of me? Or Alice?”

_“Neither.”_ Bendy shook his head. _“That’s Ann. She’s my new friend.”_

“Oh… and where did you meet this new friend?” Henry asked.

_“In my dreams, in Flower’s Garden.”_

The three adults shared a confused look before turning there attention to a few of Bendy’s other drawings. There was one of Bendy and Ann hugging, one of Ann talking about something or other (In one speech bubble, there was a crudely written _“Charleez Angels”_ but Heaven only knows what that meant), and there was one of Ann and Bendy having a sword fight with what looked like glowing swords.

That picture, in particular, caught the adults attention.

“What’s going on here, buddy?” Henry asked Bendy, pointing to the picture of him, Ann, and the glowing swords.

Bendy’s eyes lit up and he smiled. _“That’s me and Ann having a light saber battle.”_

“Light… saber?” Allison questioned, glancing up at Henry and Tom, who seemed just as lost as she did.

_“Yeah, there what the Jedi use to fight with, besides the Force.”_

“Jedi?” Henry wondered aloud while Tom mouth the words ‘The Force’ as if they were apart of a strange new language he was being forced to learn.

_“It’s from the movie Star Wars. Ann told me all about it, and it sounds like a really good movie!”_

Tom blinked, and then wrote down on his notepad what he, Allison, and Henry were thinking. He slid the notepad over to Bendy and allowed the little devil to read the question he had written down. _‘What’s a Star Wars?’_

Tom’s question was all it took for Bendy to remember that Ann said that her timeline took place a couple decades further in time then his, and as such, he would have to wait for things like Star Wars to even exist. Realizing this Bendy smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head.

_“Would you believe it was all a dream?”_


End file.
